Deathstroke: Crossroads
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Slade Wilson is on a mission ... to find his sons and atone for what he did as Deathstroke. That search leads him to a small town in Missouri where he finds a town full of people willing to stand at his side and a crossroads of how he wants to move on with his life. Deathstroke is gone forever ... isn't he?
1. Chapter 1: Leaps of Faith

Author's Notes: This story came about because of the conversations about a Deathstroke tv-series. Yeah, Slade said that Deathstroke was gone, but we all know that once the djinn is out of the bottle, he's not so easily put back in. He can, however, be … re-purposed. And that's what this is. Think of the original _Knight Rider_ , only with a terrifying, bad-ass ex-soldier and mercenary, rather than an ex-cop, and that's what I'm going for. More than that, Slade is seeking atonement. His actions once the Mirakuru finally left his system and he reconciled with Oliver went a long way toward that, but given the sort of man Slade is, I don't see that as being enough in his own estimation. So … this is where he starts, while he's looking for Joe and Grant. I'm not someone who believes in this business of 'finding his light in someone.' Honestly, I find it more than a bit creepy, because we all have dark sides. Nor do I believe in the equally creepy idea of having someone around to remind him of his humanity. No. Just, no. Those characters end up being incredibly smug and arrogant, and exactly the opposite of what they're supposed to be. Meg and Angel (along with the rest of the denizens of the entirely fictional Destine, MO) are, however, part of his support system, something everyone needs … even scary bad-ass ex-soldiers.

Disclaimer: Slade Wilson does not belong to me … he's part of the greater DCU. I'm just borrowing him for a little while, and fully intend to return him in hopefully better condition than I got him. Joe and Grant Wilson also don't belong to me, but I'm honestly not sure how much I'll be doing with them. Meg and Angel Carvalho, their friends and neighbors and family, on the other hand, do belong to me. If you want to borrow one or both of them, that's fine … just please ask first, give credit where credit is due, and above all, return them to me intact. I don't expect unscathed, but definitely intact.

Chapter One

Leaps of Faith

Destine, Missouri

Early December 2017

He left Calgary after confirming there was nothing more he could do there. The kid already left for his city, left to reunite with his own son. There was nothing for him in Calgary … except this was where he found his son again, after the Mirakuru drove him away from his boy. He told Oliver that while he remembered what happened, what he did while the Mirakuru coursed through his veins, it was like a bad dream. That was true … but some parts were clearer than others. Hurting Joe … killing men whose only crime was being in his way. Those memories were painfully clear. And now, he had another one to haunt his dreams.

Joe saw him kill. His boy (still so very young) saw him kill, and just when Slade Wilson thought he couldn't possibly fail his children more than he already had, he was proven wrong. He couldn't give up on Joe … but as he told Oliver, it was long past time he sought out Grant as well. Joe had the right of it: Joe was always more his son, while Grant was always more Adeline's. But Grant was still his boy, as Joe was. And he wasn't sure why both of his sons were in North America, but the last clue he had for Grant led him to this small town in Missouri.

Destine, Missouri: population thirty-five hundred, a small town in the southeastern corner of the state, near the Missouri/Illinois border. It was nothing special, at least not at first glance. Not that Slade would dismiss the town on that basis. There was a reason he warned that 'assumption was the mother of failure.' Nearly all failures could be traced back to making assumptions, rather than gathering facts. But he'd learned with past investigations that the best places to ferret out information were bars and diners. Destine's favorite eatery, it seemed, was a place called 'Dory's Diner.' It was early, he was hungry, and if he was going to be here for a while, it seemed likely that this would also be a good place to find a place to stay for the duration.

Just like the town itself, Dory's Diner was nothing to look at … a simple brick building that could have just as easily been a meeting place or a town hall. Still, he mounted the steps that led to the diner, and opened the door. As soon as he stepped inside, he found himself relaxing. He didn't let down his guard, as such, but he found it easier to breathe. It was warm, for one thing … and for another, the smell of fresh brewed coffee permeated the air. A few people looked up as he entered and nodded to him, looking curious more than suspicious. One of these people was a teenager … a petite pixie of a girl with glossy dark hair and a mischievous smile. He saw her mouth form the word, 'Mom' and the woman with her turned. The girl's mother gave him an appreciative once-over and a small smile, and then she turned back to her breakfast.

Slade appreciated the woman's action and found a seat at the counter. It was a rickety old stool, but sturdy. His first choice would have been a table in the back, where he could observe the entire room, but all tables and booths were already claimed. Which, now that he thought about it, was a bit strange for this early on a Saturday morning. A diminutive woman in her late sixties or early seventies bustled up to him with a broad smile, saying, "Morning, sweetheart … what can I get for you today? You're new in town, aren't you?" In spite of himself, Slade found himself smiling at her … somewhat bemused, but a smile nonetheless. It wasn't that he trusted her … he just met her … but he'd learned in the last several months that returning someone's smile was a simple thing that cost him nothing. In fact, he couldn't count the number of times just returning someone's smile and admitting that he was looking for his sons got him further than any degree of intimidation might have.

"I am. Could I get a coffee and …?" his voice trailed off. What did he want? With his years of being first stranded, and then imprisoned, on Lian Yu, he really wasn't sure what he wanted to eat. The aberration of his years as Deathstroke were just that … an aberration. Even with the months he spent in the kid's city after Prometheus blew the island up, food was still a struggle for him. He struggled to think of something simple but warm, before he heard himself finish, "An omelet?" Okay … that was a bit unexpected, but it would work.

The woman beamed at him, answering, "I surely can. How long you gonna be stayin,' honey?" Good question … Slade had no idea, and he said as much. And, hoping that it would work as it had in the past, admitted that he was looking for his sons. He dug out his picture of his boys and showed it to the woman. Her eyes softened and she replied in a voice laced with gentleness, "Oh, honey … I can't say that I've seen either of those boys, but you let Dory work her magic."

After his time in the States, he was used to hearing Southern women use endearments without a second thought … and strictly speaking, Missouri wasn't the South. But when he looked into Dory's green eyes, the man who believed in very little and almost no one … he could actually believe that this tiny, fierce woman really could work magic.

And of course, that's when the trouble began.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSW

"Are you _sure_ you don't need me to get a job, Mom? I mean, I'm pretty sure I can get a job here at the diner right after school. Dory's always said that she wanted me to come work for her when I was old enough, and I'm pretty close to that now."

Margreet Carvalho looked up from her notes to smile at her fifteen year old daughter, answering, "I'm sure, honey … I have some money in my rainy day fund and unemployment will last us a few months. And you know the department will help out as much as they can. Now, if you want to get a job to pay for things you'd like to have between your birthday and Christmas, we can work something out." Angelique bit her lip and ducked her head. Meg reached across the table to squeeze her daughter's hand, murmuring, "I promise, if I need help and Gran isn't able, I'll let you do something. But for now, I just need you to stay focused on your schoolwork."

"Yes, Mom," Angel sighed, sounding exasperated as only a fifteen year old girl could. Meg grinned and returned her attention to the updates she needed to make to her resume. It was nearly two weeks since the law office where she worked for the last ten years closed its doors. It wouldn't be easy, and she wasn't about to say otherwise. She was over forty, and she knew it wouldn't be easy for her to find a new job. But these were the cards she was dealt, and she would have to play them to the best of her ability.

There were people who told her when she lost her job that she could look on this as a chance to make changes within her life. Of course, she was still reeling from the shock of being suddenly unemployed, and wasn't entirely inclined to listen to those attempts at comforting her. Because, yes, that was exactly what they were. And now that some of the shock had eased, Meg couldn't deny that she wanted something new for herself. _A little young for a second childhood, aren't you, Meg_ , she thought a bit cattily at herself, _too young for a second childhood_ _and too old to be playing Moneypenny_. And it wasn't even that she wanted to play spy or anything like that … no, what she really wanted was to make a difference.

And she _was_ making a difference … she knew that. She and Angel both volunteered at an animal shelter and in a neo-natal unit, and often pitched in with the local fire department's fundraisers. That was, after all, why she and Angel were up at seven am on a Saturday, eating breakfast at Dory's Diner before heading over to the fire station. She … they … were making a difference to those animals and to those babies, they would be making a difference to the little kids who would be meeting 'Santa' this morning. But, as she observed dryly to Dory while the older woman refilled her coffee, there was a part of her that remained an idealistic teenage girl, not so different from her daughter. There was a part of her that wanted to help save the world. Who would imagine that practical, sensible Meg Carvalho would think in such terms? Dory merely laughed and told her that those feelings never really went away. Huh. Who knew?

That was neither here nor there. She shook herself and returned her attention to her resume, making a face when she realized she would need to wait until she got home to do more. She'd made all the notes she could … now she needed to organize it, and get it typed up. And since she and her daughter were helping out at the Breakfast with Santa function at the fire department this morning, that would have to wait until later. Angel was still plowing through her breakfast, so Meg turned her attention to the want ads, taking an occasional sip of her coffee. Of course her preference was for a full-time job with benefits, but she would take what she could get.

Angel's whispered, 'Mom' drew her attention and her daughter nodded to the door. Meg shivered a bit at the blast of chilly air and glanced over her shoulder as an unfamiliar (and _very_ handsome) man walked into their diner and took a seat at the counter. Mother and daughter, along with the entire diner, heard Dory say cheerfully, "Morning, sweetheart … what can I get for you today? You're new in town, aren't you?" Meg didn't even bother hiding her smile. Typical Dory. She would be totally lost if she didn't have someone to look after … or a newcomer to question.

The man's response was inaudible, and Dory answered, "I surely can. How long you gonna be stayin,' honey?" Meg returned her attention to the want-ads, making a small face at the clerical positions. She'd already applied for most of these. Hmm. It had been over twenty years since she worked in a warehouse, but it might not be a bad idea to check out those openings as well. Meg was pondering whether it was worth it to start circling the most promising ad when Dory said, her voice almost impossibly tender, "Oh, honey … I can't say that I've seen either of those boys, but you let Dory work her magic."

Meg raised her head and looked over at Dory, all five foot one of her, standing beside the newcomer, who was turned on the stool to face her. The man turned to face her, and for the first time, Meg noticed the eyepatch. That was … unexpected. A recent injury? She knew from talking to her husband's brother officers, many of whom served in the military before joining the force, that prosthetic eyes were available. She also noticed her daughter staring at the man, and lightly tapped Angel's ankle with the toe of her boot. When the girl looked at her, Meg shook her head. No staring! Angel mouthed, ' _but Mom, he's hot_!' Meg rolled her eyes … she would have said, 'ridiculously attractive,' but her daughter was fifteen and hadn't yet learned the various degrees of attractiveness. Then again, maybe she should be grateful that her teenage daughter could appreciate an attractive man over the age of twenty-five. She thought of all the trouble that could lead to and winced. Yeah, on the other hand, maybe not so much.

Naturally, that was when things took a turn for the worse. From the back of the diner, a petulant voice demanded, "Who do I gotta sleep with to get a damn refill around here?" Meg face-palmed and Angel looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. Meg caught her daughter's eye and nodded to the table. If Gordon started trouble, she wanted her daughter out of the line of fire. And if she was correct that he was a) off his meds and b) drunk, anyone in this diner would be in the line of fire, even if they had nothing to do with the coming confrontation. Angel smiled gratefully, although she still looked scared.

Not surprisingly, Dory didn't look even remotely impressed as Gordon ambled up to her, his gait unsteady. Then again, Gordon excelled at being unimpressive, among other things. And oh, look, he was also definitely drunk. Damn, this could get ugly. But Dory stood her ground, as she always did, even if a six foot tall man with impressive muscles didn't stand at her back. Not for the first time, Meg wondered how it was possible for a small woman to look down her nose at a man who was at least a foot taller than she was. And yet, Dory was doing just that, as she retorted, "I just got you a refill, Gordon Alexander … you are not the only person in this diner! And I _know_ this isn't how your momma raised you!" Meg bit her lip to keep from laughing, because she knew that Dory was the same age as Gordon.

Gordon rocked back on his heels, for just a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, and again, Meg glanced first at Angel, then at the table. Angel hesitated only for a moment, and then dove under the table. She'd seen Gordon having a meltdown once before … that was more than enough. With her daughter safe, at least for the moment, Meg turned her full attention to the growing confrontation between the diner's owner and the town drunk. Uncharitable, she knew … but Gordon was a jackass even when he was sober and on his meds. He was damn near intolerable when he was like this. Even so, Meg caught herself gasping when Gordon's balled up fist swung toward Dory's face …

Only for it to be stopped a matter of inches away. Meg heard the newcomer speak for the first time, saying in a gruff voice as his fingers encircled Gordon's wrist, "You don't want to do that." Meg's eyebrows shot up at the voice, and at the accent. Oh, not just not a local (she didn't technically qualify as a local after only thirteen years, after all), but from outside the United States. He sounded like he might be from Australia … or maybe New Zealand? She was leaning more toward Australia, as most of the accents from New Zealand she heard while she worked in the law office tended to be closer to Irish or Scots. She could be wrong, though.

"Let him go, son … I've been dealing with Gordon since you were in diapers, and probably even before then. Angel, sweetheart, come up off that floor. Nothing's gonna happen," Dory said. Angel emerged from her hiding place with a sheepish grin, sliding back into her side of the booth. Dory offered Meg's daughter a grandmotherly smile, saying, "You've got nothing to be embarrassed over, honey. I know you've been in here when Gordon's torn it apart. But that's not gonna happen this time." The stranger hesitated, and then released Gordon, who stumbled back. Meg guessed it was a while since anyone physically restrained Gordon in any way, judging from the way not just Gordon was staring at him in shock, but so was everyone else in the diner. Meg wasn't naïve enough to think that was because anyone was especially fond of him, but there was a reason for it. There always was.

That's when the second surprise happened. In all the years she'd known Dory, the kind-hearted woman never turned anyone away. But it seemed even her legendary patience was at an end, as she added with a vicious glare at Gordon, "And as for you? I want you out of here. If I have to, I'll call my oldest grandson, and you can sober up in one of the cells, but I want you out of my diner. And you won't be permitted back until you can behave like an adult. You are sixty-eight years old, not a child!"

Gordon stared at her in shock, before sputtering, "You … you can't do that." The handsome stranger at Dory's back actually growled at him (Oookay, that was sexier than it should have been), and Meg was treated to the sight of Gordon backpedaling rapidly. Dory reached behind her and patted the stranger's arm, as if telling him to relax. Gordon repeated, actually sounding desperate … and a little afraid, "Dory, you can't do that! You can't do that, I … I'll sue! And Ruby wouldn't want you to do it, either!" Meg groaned and face-palmed. Evidently, he never heard the adage, ' _when you're in a hole, stop digging_.' And Dory, if that was possible, looked even more unimpressed. And for the first time, Meg saw two deputies rising to their feet. She wondered at first why they were getting involved, and then she remembered … until Dory was willing to do something about Gordon, they couldn't get involved. And now that her patience was running out, now they could do something. She nodded to her next door neighbor, Deputy Leah Townshend, who nodded in turn. At Leah's side stood her partner, Adrian Houston. And then, as one, all three returned their attention to the ongoing confrontation.

"You're going to sue me? When you've reduced my diner to splinters more than once, when you've terrified my customers? If anything, I should have done this years ago! The only reason I didn't was respect for my sister's memory, but that was a mistake. If I wanted to honor Ruby's memory, I should have kicked you out years ago!" Dory retorted. Meg blinked at that. She never knew that … she knew that Dory lost her sister in a devastating accident, and that Gordon's wife was killed, but she never knew that they were the same woman.

Gordon was still staring at Dory in shock, too stunned to react even when Leah lightly grasped his forearm. She murmured as Adrian followed with their coffees, "Come along quietly, Gordon … we'll give Heather a call at the station." Still stunned, he numbly walked between the two deputies, and Dory relaxed. Heather, Meg knew, was Gordon's only child … she was in her early thirties, a widow like Meg, and trying to raise her two boys and take care of her father at the same time. At the best of times, he didn't make it easier for her. And now knowing that Dory was her aunt answered a few questions Meg could never bring herself to ask.

Dory sighed quietly, shaking her head as she stared after her brother-in-law. At last, however, she turned to the stranger and said quite firmly, "Now, young man, you are going to sit back down. I am going to feed you, and then we're going to look for your sons, even if I need to involve the entire town." Looking stunned, the stranger did just that. Meg caught her eye, and Dory swept over to her, asking softly, "Is this something you can do? I know you just lost your job, honey, and I can pay for your printer ink, but this boy needs help finding his sons." Meg didn't bother pointing out that the 'boy' was at least forty years old, quite possibly even older … that wasn't the point, especially since Dory was pushing seventy. To her, they _were_ kids.

"Of course. It'll have to wait until after the Breakfast with Santa function, but absolutely, I can do that. Any idea on how the boys disappeared?" Meg asked softly and Dory shook her head. It probably didn't matter … but then again, it might. She wasn't a cop, but she knew what sorts of questions they would be asking. And one thing that made her wonder was why the stranger was here. Well, yes, she knew it was because he was looking for these two young men, but what brought him here, what led him to believe that either or both of his sons were here?

"No … he just said that he had a falling out with the older boy, Joe, a few weeks back. And … he needs help, honey. Not just finding those boys, but he reminds me of my Nick before he joined the fire department. He's lookin' for a purpose, somethin' to keep his hands busy. After he eats, maybe you should take him over to the fire department with you and Angel?" Dory suggested. Meg blew out her cheeks with an exhale, considering that. Dory patted her shoulder, adding, "You think about it, sweetheart, I need to fix that boy some breakfast."

Meg bobbed her head. It wasn't that she objected to taking the newcomer with her and Angel, as such. She didn't even know the man's name, she didn't know if he would be interested in helping at the function, she didn't even know what he could to help. The one thing she did know was that Dory had a pretty good sense of people, except when it came to her own family. And that wasn't strictly fair, either. Still, Meg saw the stranger stand up for a woman he just met; more than that, Dory was right far more than she was wrong. And when all was said and done, Meg might be wary of strangers, but she believed in Dory.

As the older woman bustled around the counter opposite the stranger, Meg caught her eye and nodded very slightly. Dory beamed at her, before turning her attention to the stranger and saying, "Slade, honey, I want you to meet Meg Carvalho and her daughter Angel. Meg, Angel, this is Slade Wilson. He's in town looking for his boys. We're gonna do our best to help him find them." Meg long ago came to terms with the knowledge that on the days your life changed forever, you seldom received any warning of those changes.

As he would prove to make a habit of doing in the days and weeks to come, Slade Wilson blew that theory all to hell.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2: Small Town Saturday Morning

Author's Notes: This particular chapter was inspired by our own Breakfast with Santa last weekend. I was waiting for my pancakes (since there was NO room at the tables), and amusing myself by thinking about how Slade would react to this part of life in a small town. I should add here that I've never actually been in Missouri; however, I grew up in the Midwest and in small towns. So, to anyone in Missouri who might be reading this … my apologies if I get something wrong. Research can tell me some things, but not everything. And, I think I've figured out where I'm going with this. (crossing fingers, toes, all other appropriate body parts). I have five working days left in the semester and then it's time for Christmas break, which means I have ten days off. I'll be heading to San Antonio, Texas the day after Christmas, and I'm hoping to get some writing done when I'm not touring the city. It's my first time in San Antonio (well, really, first time in Texas) since I was a little girl, and I'm really looking forward to it. The chapter title is a variation on the Hal Ketchum song, 'Small Town Saturday Night.'

Chapter Two

Small Town Saturday Morning

Dory settled him at the table beside the mother and daughter after she brought his coffee to him, telling him only that the pair would look after him. Slade thought briefly of pointing out that he didn't need looking after, but Dory looked so determined, he found the words dying on his tongue. Besides, she knew this town better than he did. And once Dory brought the food to him, he focused on it, rather than the near-worshipful expression of the daughter (Angel … her name was Angel) and the quiet, assessing stare of the mother.

The mother … Meg, Dory called her … was around his own age, maybe a little younger. From the few words she'd spoken, Slade realized she was no more local than he was. He had a hard time placing her accent, aside from 'not local' and 'not Southern.' Dory murmured as she settled the plate in front of him that Meg just lost her job at the law office in town after it was closed. Slade once again had access to his bank accounts … it seemed the kid talked the new head of ARGUS into unfreezing (or maybe it was 'unseizing') his assets. The next time he talked to his little brother, he'd have to thank him for that.

He cleared his throat and the mother … Meg … blinked, as he asked, "So, tell me about this event at the fire department?" The corners of her mouth quirked and her eyebrows arched nearly into her hairline. Slade added, "I like to know what I'm being volunteered for. It generally avoids trouble later on." Now the quirk of her lips turned into a genuine smile, with more than a hint of mischief. This one could be dangerous, depending on the circumstances. Maybe not the way he was, but even a terrified civilian holding a weapon they weren't comfortable with could be dangerous (and often were, not just to themselves, but those around them).

"It's a Breakfast with Santa for the kids in the area. The fire department holds it every year … started out as something for kids from families who weren't as well off. Now, it's for all kids under the age of twelve, mainly because no one could figure out a good cut off income rate for the kids' parents. The rest of the community has donated gifts and a photographer will be taking pictures. And it's good to know you want to know what you're being volunteered for. It's something I'm trying to teach Angel," she answered, her dark eyes twinkling. Both adults laughed when Angel all but whined, ' _Mom_!' But Slade's laughter died away as the near-whine reminded him suddenly, painfully of Oliver when they first met, and everything Slade destroyed in the wake of Shado's death.

"I guess you should have asked why Mr. Rhodes needed you last week before you told him that you'd help him, then," Angel taunted, drawing Slade back from the past. He blinked, looking from mother to daughter. And he didn't miss the quick, concerned glance the girl made in his direction. He mentally frowned at that. If a fifteen year old girl noticed that he was getting lost in his own head (lost in his guilt), that wasn't a good sign. Slade glanced at the girl's mother and once more, found himself on the end of that assessing stare. Rather than look away, he met her eyes steadily. Maybe it was a good thing if she saw him as he really was.

But instead of pulling away, as he expected her to, Meg Carvalho smiled. She looked back at her daughter, answering, "You're making assumptions, Angel. You're assuming that I didn't know what to expect when Mr. Rhodes asked for help. And you know how dangerous making assumptions is." Slade smirked to himself … making assumptions was very dangerous. For her own part, Angel scowled at her mother, and Meg winked at Slade, before returning her attention to her newspaper. She added without looking up, "I'll let you explain to Mr. Wilson about what to expect today. I don't want him worrying that we want him to play Santa." Slade almost spit out his coffee at that, and instead swallowed hard. Naturally, that provoked a coughing fit. The woman pushed her own water over to him, murmuring as she pounded on his back, "Sorry, didn't mean to do that."

"Don't believe her, son, she does that all the time. Think she enjoys it," Dory observed, returning to their table to refill Meg's coffee cup, and Slade's own. Meg responded by sticking out her tongue, and Dory scolded, "Don't be doing that, you'll set a bad example for Angel!" Meg's reaction was nothing short of childish … she crossed her eyes at Dory to go along with her tongue … but it made him laugh. It was a good thing Slade hadn't taken another sip of coffee, because the next words out of Dory's mouth would have had him doing the exact same thing. Dory added, "And I think you and Slade could be finding a better use for your tongue!"

Better uses … if pressed later, Slade would protest his exhaustion and general anxiety for not realizing immediately what the proprietress was saying. Meg, however, figured it out almost instantly and actually squawked indignantly, "DORY!" And Angel worked it out soon after, her face turning fire-engine red and she squeaked. Slade was embarrassed to admit, it took him several minutes to figure out what she was saying … and then he was just embarrassed. Dory, however, was thoroughly unrepentant. He had the impression that she was rarely sorry for the things she said, especially in circumstances like these.

"He's a good-looking man, honey … strong, too," the older woman retorted. She gave him an appreciative once-over, adding, "And you … any man would be lucky to have a woman like you. You two could take good care of each other." Slade was struggling to fit two words together to speak coherently. He just … but he … why would … Grant. He was here to find Grant. That was the only reason he was here, and Dory would just have to doing her matchmaking with someone else.

It seemed Meg was thinking along the same lines, because she retorted, sounding as if she was being strangled from the inside, "Dory. I just met the man, and if he's here looking for his son, then he's not going to want distractions or any other attachments!" Dory just smirked and sauntered off. The young girl across from Slade was still blushing, and her mother muttered, "That woman is a menace. She is an absolute menace." Slade couldn't argue. He'd met assassins and mercenaries who were less dangerous than the woman who just left.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSW

For the most part, despite her questions, Dory didn't interfere in the lives of other people. She had enough drama from her family, she liked to say (especially her brother-in-law) … why would she interfere in the lives of others, even her friends? Would she guide people toward a specific preferred conclusion with her questions? Absolutely. But that was the extent of it. People had to make their own decisions … otherwise, it just didn't work. And she only ever joked about playing matchmaker. People tended to resent when you got involved in their love lives, and understandably so.

That wasn't to say that she was above giving people a little nudge … and generally, those were the people who were fairly together, not the hot messes. Dory knew not everyone who figured that out understood it. After all, it would seem logical that the hot messes needed the most help. And that was true … but the hot messes, she found, usually knew that. Given that, it was on them to ask for that help. The people who largely had things together, on the other hand, often didn't know they needed help … so they didn't ask for it. That was where Dory came in.

She'd had a thousand names and a thousand lives, but out of all of them, Dory was her favorite life … at least thus far. But this life was coming to an end. Oh, not today or tomorrow, or maybe even five years from now … but it was coming to an end. And before that life came to an end, Dory wanted to make sure that the people she loved would be all right. Meg and Angel Carvalho fell solidly into that category, along with everyone else in Destine. Well, most everyone else in Destine. She'd developed a soft spot for Meg when the younger woman arrived in Destine with a two year old daughter on her hip and empty eyes. She'd liked Meg's late husband Stephen a great deal … and mourned when he was killed while assisting with a traffic accident, only days before his wife and daughter were set to join him in Destine (but not just an traffic accident, no … not that she would ever admit it to the town's newest denizen).

No one would have blamed Meg if she'd stayed in Baltimore, where she grew up. But, as she explained after her husband's funeral, she made a promise. _I can't keep all of my promises_ , Meg admitted, _I guess that makes me a terrible person. But I'm determined to keep this one_. She'd fallen silent, kissing the top of her daughter's head, and then murmured, _Besides. I can't very well ask for my job back._ And so, she moved forward with her plans and made a new life for herself and her daughter in the town where her husband died. Dory would never tell her so … she wasn't Meg's mother and it would have sounded beyond condescending … but she was fiercely proud of Meg for that. She'd rolled her eyes at some of Meg's decisions, but couldn't deny that most of them seemed to have turned out well. And besides, Dory had no business actually questioning her decisions, when Dory's own ended up enabling her brother-in-law.

Her brother-in-law. She'd never actually liked Ruby's husband. There were too many signs of things that could go wrong. But Ruby loved him, and Dory adored her younger sister. She supposed when Ruby was killed so damn senselessly in the same stupid accident that ended up costing Stephen Carvalho his life (something she never told Meg) … Dory wasn't proud of herself for this, but she supposed she latched onto Gordon, rather than Heather, because Ruby's death so completely broke her husband. Heather … Heather seemed to be okay, but as Dory knew all too well, 'seemed to' didn't mean 'was.' Gordon lost his wife, Dory lost her sister … but Heather lost her mom. When Dory and Ruby lost their parents, they had each other to cling to, but who did Heather have? She was seventeen years old, finishing up high school. She didn't meet Aidan until a few years later, so who held her as she cried?

A wave of shame swept over Dory as she thought about her niece during those years, but she fought it back. She fought it back, because there was no other choice. She had a diner full of people, and a young man who never met her before, but still defended her as if she was his own mother. Oh, she knew that Slade Wilson would have protested being called 'young,' but to her, he was. Speaking as the painfully human Dory or as the immortal Sevi'anna, he was so terribly young. Dory looked at him and saw a man the same age as her son, while Sevi'anna … well, she shouldn't really divide Dory and Sevi'anna, as they were the same person, but sometimes she did to keep Sevi'anna's memories from overwhelming her.

As Dory made another pass through the diner, Meg caught her eye and Dory nodded. With a small, proud smile, she noticed that Slade didn't even leave a crumb on his plate. She said as she approached, "Getting ready to head out? Put your money away, sweetheart. No, no argument … if you really want to pay, Angel can come wash dishes after you're done at the fire department." Meg closed her mouth with a snap, and Angel bobbed her head happily. Slade made a move for his wallet, but Dory shook her head sharply, saying, "Uh-uh. Don't even think about it, young man, for today, your money is no good. Now, y'all run along, and Meg, try to come for dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," Meg answered, her voice carrying a note of affectionate exasperation. She rolled her eyes when Dory actually ruffled her hair, before heading back into the kitchen. Dory didn't stay to watch them leave (she was fairly sure that despite her words, Meg would sneak at least a five dollar bill under her plate. She'd done it before). Instead, she had to call her niece. By her reckoning, Gordon wouldn't be at the station yet … that should give her time to call Heather and give her a head's up about her father's behavior. She didn't really want to … Heather had enough on her plate right now … but she knew it was necessary.

Yes, Dory's time as Dory was coming to an end … but she still had a lot of work to do. At least now she had a little bit of extra help in protecting her beloved town. A soft voice observed, "Is that why Slade was directed here? I know it was because Grant was here for a few weeks, but that's not all … is it?" Dory looked up to see the petite young girl who was Sevi'anna's great-granddaughter from when she carried the name Gulong Meirong. Dory noticed how her eyes never left Slade Wilson, even as he rose to his feet and followed Meg and Angel from the diner.

"That's part of it, yes … I'm not sure who in town saw Grant Wilson while he was here, or if anyone did. It could be a red herring. But yes. Helping to protect this town is part of Slade's penance, even though he doesn't know it yet. And no, child … you can't appear to him, not yet. Right now, he would think he is hallucinating you, again, and he needs to heal first. In order to maintain balance, this has to happen. Slade tried to destroy an American city, so he has to help protect this small American town … at least for a while. That doesn't mean he can't leave to track down Grant or Joe, but he does have to return to us when he's needed."

Gulong Shado nodded, looking devastated. Dory wished she could gather Shado in her arms, the way she would have held her niece or grandchildren, but Shado's lack of corporeal form made that impossible. Instead, she said gently, "Your Slade is a good man, sweetheart. Yeah, he did some truly horrible things. People are dead at his hand, and they can't come back to life. But … he could have let that cripple him. Once the Mirakuru completely left his bloodstream and he regained his sanity, realized what he did, he could have curled up and died. But he didn't, and when the offer came for him to start atoning for what he did, he did that. He's a _good_ man."

"I know. I know. And it broke my heart, seeing what that monster wearing my face was doing to him," Shado whispered. At least she wasn't blaming herself (again) for what he did. She had that problem when she first was drawn to Dory … blaming herself for Slade's actions, for Oliver's. At least she didn't try to blame herself for Ivo. Now, she was trying to figure out why the hallucinations tormenting Slade bore her appearance. Dory's theory was that the hallucinations were of someone Slade believed he failed. That, of course, led to some very inventing cursing from Shado on who failed who. Oh, how Dory loved that girl!

Dory said now, "We'll look after him, Shado. Not just me, but this entire town. You can rest a while, maybe get to know Rebecca." Shado just looked at her and Dory conceded, fighting back a smile, "Or not. I just thought it would be nice for you to spend time with someone who knows how you feel." Which wasn't entirely accurate, but if there was anyone in this life or the afterlife who would know about someone beloved committing atrocities in their name, it would be Rebecca Merlyn. Rebecca, however, had her hands full with her distraught son … Shado admitted that she wasn't entirely sure if Tommy was distraught because his father was ignoring his still-healing body, or if it was because he intended to die on Lian Yu to save his daughter when his actions led to Tommy's death. She wasn't about to ask, either. Dory didn't blame her.

"I can't leave him. Not yet. Maybe never. Do you really think that your town can care for Slade?" Shado asked. Interesting question. She never doubted that Slade would protect Destine … her doubts were about the town's ability to care for Slade. However, she wouldn't call the girl on it. Was it love? Was it guilt? Did it matter? Dory didn't think so. Soon or later, Shado would have to move on with the next part of her journey.

"I know we can. We've done it before," Dory answered. Shado eyed her, before nodding and fading away. Dory could only sigh. Stubborn people. She was surrounded by stubborn people, and the most stubborn of all existed on a different plane of existence. Dory shook her head, told Sevi'anna to stop laughing, and peeked out the door. Meg and Angel were leading Slade out the door (what took them so long?), and for the first time, Dory wondered how he arrived at the diner. Not that it mattered. She had work to do and a niece to look after.

SWSWSWSWSWSW

Well. This was … awkward.

They'd left the diner about ten minutes earlier. Their unexpected passenger decided to ride with them and return for … whatever he arrived in later. Angel ever so thoughtfully left the front seat for him. Things started out fairly pleasantly, as Meg filled Slade Wilson on what to expect. As she promised, he wouldn't be playing Santa Claus (unless things went ridiculously pear-shaped, and she'd not received any texts along those lines) … instead, he would be assisting with manual labor. He'd smirked at that, a dark brow arching over his eyepatch, and asked, "A pack mule, then?" Exactly … she was so glad he understood. He'd laughed, and seemed a bit surprised by the sound, as if he'd had little occasion, and even less reason, to laugh recently.

The conversation flowed from one subject to another over the next few minutes, from Slade's background (he'd joined the army at the age of sixteen, lying about his age … Meg glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror, quietly warning her against even considering that particular career path) to how long he'd been in the US (on and off over the last few years) to what specific clue drew his attention to their little town (reference to a young man matching his son's description and answering to the name 'Grant Wilson' making his way up through the towns that lined the Missouri/Illinois border). And then The Question was asked.

"What happened to your eye?"

It was a perfectly innocent, perfectly valid question … but Meg noticed the way her passenger reacted. He actually flinched, before answering gruffly, "Got into a fight with my kid brother." A chill zapped its way down Meg's spine, and she twitched in spite of herself, especially when she saw her daughter's expression. That wasn't nearly enough information for Angel, and Meg tried to warn her daughter without speaking to let it go, that it really wasn't their business … that the memories associated with that eyepatch couldn't be good ones.

But then, Slade surprised her by adding, "Wasn't myself at the time … was dosed with something that drove me insane. If he hadn't done it, I would have hurt even more people, and wouldn't have cared." Meg swallowed hard at the pain and the guilt in those simple words. Whatever happened to him to cause that fight with his brother, it was pretty clear to her that he was still coming to terms with not just the events themselves, but the fallout. Meg was an only child (although to be honest, the last time she knew, her father had no other children), but the idea of such a fallout with someone she loved made her shudder.

Of course, her eternally curious child had to ask next, "Dosed? You mean like with a drug?" If she hadn't been driving, Meg would have either face-palmed or hit her head on the steering wheel. She barely dared to glance at Slade, but to her surprise, he seemed neither upset nor even surprised by her daughter's questions. Then again, he did have at least two children, so that would make sense. Still …

"Yes … exactly like a drug, one that could heal anything, but the side effects were terrible," was the response. A chill zipped down Meg's spine and when Angel opened her mouth to speak again, Meg immediately shook her head. A familiar, mulish expression appeared on her daughter's face, but Slade (and when did she start thinking of him by his first name?) asked, "That's the fire department?" Meg returned her attention to the road, and saw with no small amount of relief that he was a hundred percent correct.

"That's Station One … Station Two is close to our house," she agreed, making the turn into the building's parking lot. She whistled under her breath … it was barely eight am, and there was already a crowd gathering. Whether it was due to the pancakes or Santa, she really wasn't sure, and was equally unsure if it actually mattered. She eased her car into a parking space and turned off the engine. The three exited the car, Meg and Angel leading Slade up the sidewalk to the business entrance. Even before they reached that entrance, Meg could smell the pancakes and bacon. And dammit, it was making her hungry … again!

The smell grew stronger once they entered the warm building, and Angel murmured, "You must be so cold. I know it's summer in Australia right now." Sum …? Oh. Right. Yeah, it was summer in Australia right now, because they were on the opposite end of the earth. New Zealand was, too. And her daughter's observation won her a small smile from their unexpected guest. Of course, right about then was when Lindsey Marshall made her grand appearance. Angel actually shrieked, seeing their favorite ginger, "Aunt Lindy!" She zoomed toward the redhead who seemed to hold half the town together (Dory held the other half).

Lindy looked up with a broad grin, opening her arms to Angel's mad dash. Of course, at the same time, she noticed Slade … even if the slight widening of her green eyes hadn't told Meg as much, the devious smile that appeared on her friend's face would have. Oh Lord have mercy. The next three hours would be a barrel full of laughs (at least for her … she wasn't nearly as sure about that fact for Slade). However, Lindy just kissed the top of Angel's head, telling her that Santa needed his elves and she could pick up her costume and get changed in the ladies' restroom. Then she turned her attention to Meg and Slade, saying, "Well … this is an unexpected gift. How on earth did you know we needed another strong man around?"

"Oh yes, I totally knew a man would be needed this morning when he walked into Dory's and put a stop to Gordon's latest bit of stupidity … however did you ever guess?" Meg deadpanned and was rewarded with an unfamiliar sound. She blinked and looked to her left, where Slade was laughing at their banter. She looked back at Lindy, who winked at her. Oh … this might prove interesting. She smirked as Lindy slipped her hand inside Slade's elbow, while linking arms with Meg, and added, "I take it that you have uses for him?"

"Oh, honey, I can think of several uses for him," Lindy retorted and Meg was delighted to see a flush crawling up Slade's neck. Oh. They could make him blush. That was good to know. They just had to make sure that they didn't overdo it. Didn't want to frighten him off, after all. Then again, the man survived having his eye put out by his brother, so he probably didn't scare easily … but still, manners were important. Lindy added, as if just now thinking of it, "Oh, you mean for the Breakfast with Santa? Oh, yes … in fact, if you don't mind releasing him to my custody, he can help to carry the bags of gifts. Oh, and some help will be needed to set up the tables for the face-painting. I think all of the dining tables are already set up."

"Well, I don't know about that … Dory asked me to watch out for him," Meg said, her reluctance not entirely feigned. Lindy gave an exaggerated sigh. Meg looked past her friend, asking Slade, "What do you think … I know you can take care of yourself, but this is a bit more than you bargained for." Then she face-palmed as she realized she left out something very important. She nodded to Lindy, saying, "By the way … this is Lindsey Walker, one of the driving forces in Destine. Lindy, this is Slade Wilson. He just arrived in town today."

"Well, Slade Wilson, I'm _very_ glad to meet you. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to meet the people you'll be helping. Meg, you can head on into the kitchen," Lindy replied. With that dismissal, Lindy sauntered off, leading a somewhat bemused Slade along in her wake. Meg just shook her head and headed into the kitchen. She wasn't expected to cook, but she would be needed to help serve and make sure all the tables had butter and syrup. That was her first task, a quick inventory of the tables. Assured that everything was as it needed to be, Meg started serving the few families already there (it seemed the parking lot mostly held the cars of the workers right now. That would change).

And change, it did … within a half hour of their arrival, Meg was running back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area, serving young parents with overexcited children, older couples getting an early start on the day before the crowds at the local Wal-Mart got too crazy, and everything in between. She caught sight of her daughter and Slade a few times … Meg snickered when she noticed Angel wearing the full Christmas elf costume: green leotards or leggings, a red tunic and hat, and oh look, even elven ears! She took a quick picture with her cell, before returning her attention to her duties. She'd send it to her parents later.

And, of course, she found herself fielding questions not just about the incident at Dory's (because of _course_ that story made the rounds), but also about 'that dangerously attractive man who arrived with you.' She should have expected that, and to a point, she did. What took her by surprise, at least at first, were the questions about her relationship with Slade ( _what relationship_? _I just met him today_!). However, Lindy ever so gently pointed out to her that this was the first time anyone had seen Meg with a single man since her arrival in Destine. She hadn't even gone on a date. Which sounded wrong to Meg, because surely she'd dated some men once she was ready to move on? But when Lindy asked her to name one, Meg drew a blank. She really hadn't been on any dates since Stephen's death. Oh. No wonder she was getting some … looks. Not Looks, much less LOOKS, but looks. They thought (hoped, according to Lindy) that Slade was her new boyfriend. Uhm, no. He was gorgeous, and she wasn't about to say otherwise … but he was in town to find his son. That meant she was, at best, a distraction … assuming that he found her as attractive as she found him (which was highly, HIGHLY unlikely).

Still, as some of the crowd began to thin and Meg could hear the festivities outside the eating area, Slade eased himself into one of the chairs at one of the few empty tables. No newcomers had arrived during the last ten minutes and Meg was keeping an eye on the syrup bottles, checking to see if anyone were running low. He cast her a sidelong look, asking, "Is this normal?" Meg laughed and sat down beside him, both wincing as someone in the bay launched into an enthusiastic, but incredibly off-key, rendition of _Santa Claus is Coming to Town_. Wonderful … she hated the damn song as it was, but this was even worse. Fortunately, the singer (if one wanted to call him that) gave way to actual music a few minutes later.

"More or less. The pancake breakfasts, the Breakfasts with Santa, the spaghetti dinners tend to bring in a lot of people … especially the Breakfasts with Santa, since those are free. Well, I say free … there is no set price, but donations are requested. You all right? I know they kept you busy," Meg inquired. Slade bobbed his head, and Meg wondered how many times a child asked him about his eyepatch. She was fairly sure that none of the adults had. Okay, mostly sure.

"I was in the ASIS, luv … I'm fine," Slade answered almost absently, his one eye flickering around the room. ASIS … she knew about the British SAS, and wondered if the ASIS was the Australian equivalent thereof. She didn't ask, though. It wasn't her business, and every time she asked a question, every time her daughter made an inquiry, it felt like they were claiming him in some way. Meg couldn't explain it, couldn't explain why she felt that way, but she did. He wanted to find his son, and once he found the answers he needed, he would leave. This town had no claim on him, and the more she learned about him the more she wanted to learn.

But … that wasn't the same thing as claiming him, was it? No … no, not really. She knew Lindy was intrigued by him, in part because he was the first man she expressed an interest in since Stephen's death. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter, because she wouldn't let things go any further, not just for her own sake, but for his as well. Not that Slade expressed an interest in her (why would he?), but it was the principle of the thing. Slade was just passing through, and she wouldn't be so selfish as to try to keep him here.

It sounded really good in her head. So she was more than a little bit surprised when she heard herself ask, "You know … we don't really have a hotel or even a boarding house in Destine. Why don't you stay with us while you're looking for your son?" Right … so much for not being selfish. But once the words were said, she couldn't call them back. Not even when she saw Slade's startled expression … which turned to considering. She … didn't know what to make of that expression. Not even when he responded a few seconds later.

"I think I will take you up on that. If you're sure. I'm not …I'm not a good man. My brother wasn't the first or the last person I hurt. And to be honest, being around me may well put you and your daughter in danger," Slade answered slowly. Meg wondered if she should tell him that she was in danger, just by virtue of being a cop's wife. But the man was continuing, "But, because you've met me, you're already in danger. If I stay … I'm better able to protect you, for as long as I'm here. And once I'm gone … I'll find a way to keep you both safe." There was a tiny pause, and then he said softly, "I promise."

She thought about saying that she could look after herself and Angel. She thought about saying that it wasn't his job to keep them safe. She didn't even tease him about making promises, because she had a feeling, just from the way he spoke those last two words, that making promises wasn't something he did lightly. In the end, she put her hand over his, answering in an equally soft voice, "Then welcome to Destine, Slade Wilson. I hope you find your sons, and whatever else you're seeking." He turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together, his brown eye focused steadily on her face. Was she doing the wrong thing in trusting him? Possibly. But she didn't think so. Every time she started to wonder about that, she saw him in her mind's eye, sliding off that stool to defend Dory. Maybe he wasn't a 'good' man. But she was willing to trust that he was a decent human being.

Only time would tell.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: _Arrow_ has Constantine and Damien Darkhe, Ra's al Ghul and the Lazarus Pit, and other variations on magic. It seems only fitting that this have Dory and her … connections (for now). This won't be the last time you'll see Shado … the real Shado, not the demon hallucination. Oh, and speaking of Darkhe, he'll be making an appearance in a later story. Since he's been resurrected, I figure it's only a matter of time before he starts making trouble for a lot more people. And I had a really evil idea involving Anthony Ivo's wife Jessica. I can't say that Oliver and the rest of the Starling City team will show up, but I can't say that they won't, either. There may come a time when Slade again needs Oliver's help … there may also come a time when Oliver needs Slade's assistance. It all depends on the muses.


	3. Chapter 3: Rising Threats

Author's Notes: And this, dear readers, is why I should always double-check the episodes before I post anything, because I honest to God thought Oliver and Slade were in Calgary, rather than Kasnia. (facepalms) Why didn't I? I normally do, just to be sure of the accuracy, but I really was _that_ sure that Felicity referenced Calgary. Well, Slade was right about that … assumption really is the mother of all failure. Then again, he often is. The good news is, I've got a handle on Grant Wilson and how he ended up in Missouri (hint: remember his appearance in _Legends of Tomorrow_? Yeah, it's tied to that). Joe, I have a feeling will show up since he knows about William Clayton's existence, and wants to cause more trouble for his father and brother before he goes after William and Oliver (if only because he probably believes that Oliver stole his father from him. That was my impression at least). Also, I will be coming back to what happened to Rebecca. I planned to do that this chapter, but … I realized I had some damage control to do. And yes, at some point, I will be going back and correcting the reference from Calgary to Kasnia. So, in this chapter, Slade learns more about Destine; Dory gets some world-changing news (or maybe world-ending); while more members of the Wilson family make an appearance.

Chapter Three

Rising Threats

He wasn't entirely sure what to expect when the ginger who Angel greeted as 'Aunt Lindy' grabbed his hand and towed him off … but he knew that he wasn't expecting to enjoy himself. Then again, when was the last time he had fun? Well, yeah, arse-kicking was fun … but when was the last time he had fun that didn't involve arse-kicking? He really couldn't remember, but he was sure it was during his first time on Lian Yu. Unbidden, an image of Oliver trying to light a fire returned to his mind and Slade found himself grinning.

"Well, that's worrisome … although maybe that's the point. Do you smile because you're having fun, or because you want to scare people?" Lindy asked, sitting down beside Meg. Over the last thirty minutes, the flood of people began to slow down and some of the tables started to empty as families with small children headed out into the bays to explore the various trucks. One such table was claimed by those who suddenly found themselves without a task, and cups of coffee were distributed to those who wanted them. Slade merely raised a brow over his eyepatch, and Lindy added, "More to the point, now that I think about it, are the two mutually exclusive?" Meg immediately began shaking her head, her hazel eyes dancing with laughter. Lindy stuck her tongue out at Meg, muttering, "Oh, hush, you! Slade, are you absolutely sure you want to stay with this crazy woman?"

Slade's immediate reaction was to say 'no,' but not because he feared Meg's supposed insanity. He still feared in the back of his mind, despite the passage of time, that the Mirakuru-induced insanity would make a return. He was distracted from those memories when Lindy added, "Oh … have you told your new houseguest what your real name is?" What? Slade frowned, glancing from one woman to the other. What did that have to do with anything? Meg rolled her eyes at her friend, who was practically bouncing in her seat. Smirking, Lindy explained to Slade, "People make the mistake of thinking Meg's real name is 'Margaret' or 'Megan.' It's not."

"Actually, it _is_ 'Margaret,' just not the English version of it. And since Lindy isn't going to let this go, my real name is 'Margreet,' a Dutch equivalent of 'Margaret.' It was also my paternal grandmother's name. Now, Lindy dear, are we going to let this silly topic go, or do I need to tell Slade what your childhood nickname was?" Meg retorted, a tiny smile dancing around the edges of her mouth. Apparently, this was the Battle of Names, and fairly common between the two women. Although, now that Slade thought about it, he did seem to recall meeting a few women by that name when his various missions took him around the world. And it looked like Meg's challenge would be deferred.

Lindy's hand flew to her chest and she gasped dramatically, "You horrid, horrid woman … you wouldn't dare!" Except she clearly would … Slade just met her only a few hours earlier, and even he knew enough to be wary of the rather devilish smirk decorating her face. Lindy must have come to the same conclusion, for she grumbled, "Well, fine! Spoil all my fun." But then she smirked and added, "Margreet Theodora." Meg's eyes narrowed, and Lindy squeaked, jumping up from her seat and taking off.

"Be right back, Slade, I have someone I need to see to," Meg drawled, before rising to her feet and chasing after her friend. Slade shook his head and sipped his coffee. The first thing he'd done when Lindy pulled him into the bay, where he was needed to help set up tables, was check out the exits/entrances … aside from the huge doors. There was also what looked like a loft of some kind. He would need to do more investigating, to see if that loft could be used in an attack.

The rest of the entrances and exits were to be expected, and Slade included the windows in that total. At this point in his life, he didn't even question that impulse … it saved him, and those under his protection, too many times. He did, however, question whether the town of Destine was truly under his protection. He wasn't planning to stay that long … on the other hand, while he was here, he would watch over them. Stop any trouble that might get started, regardless of the form that trouble took ... whether it was from drunks who liked busting up diners or troublemakers who thought a small town out in the middle of nowhere would provide an easy mark for them.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of someone dumping themselves into the seat across from his own and a muttered, ' _Some people never really grow up_.' Slade glanced across the table to find a heavy-set older man, probably in his sixties or seventies, sitting there. The man offered a rueful smile, observing, "I watched Lindy grow up and saw Meg come out of her shell after her husband died. And it still throws me off guard when I watch them behave like teenage girls." He jerked his head in the direction of Meg tackling Lindy to the ground with the assistance of two very enthusiastic little boys, Lindy shrieking in laughter all the while. The man turned his attention back to Slade, adding, "Rafe Madison, Destine's fire chief. And you're Slade Wilson. I think pretty much the entire fire department knows your name by now, between your work here and putting the idiot in his place this morning."

'The idiot' was evidently Dory's brother-in-law … and that was just a few hours earlier. Some of Slade's surprise must have been visible on his face, because the fire chief added with a laugh, "This is a small town, son. A young man like you comes into town, looking for his boys and helping one of our favorite people, you'll be known by noon. Add to that you coming to our function today in the company of someone who hasn't even looked at another man twice since her husband's death and that's gonna make you even more memorable."

"That's the second time someone has mentioned that … I'm not sure if I should apologize or be weirded that y'all noticed that I didn't have much to do with men," Meg observed, dragging Lindy back to the table by the scruff of her neck and dropping into a chair beside Slade. The former soldier thought about that … even without the Mirakuru in his system, after Shado, had he wanted anything to do with women?

"Just accept that we were worried about you at first, and then realized that you were more intent on being a good mother to Angel than anything else. It wasn't just mourning … if it was just that, we would have been worried. Which means you also don't have to worry about apologizing," Lindy advised. Then she looked at Slade with a speculative gleam in her eyes, adding, "On the other hand, if you don't jump _his_ bones, you do need to apologize!" Slade felt all the blood rush to his face, Meg's expression turned murderous and Rafe put his hands on the shoulders of both women before Meg could start chasing Lindy around the once-more-filling-up dining area. Again

"Lindy, I think they need help in the kitchen. Meg, if you want to get blackmail pictures of your daughter, now is the time … they're starting to wind down out there," the chief observed. Meg glowered at Lindy for a moment longer before striding out to the bay. Looking chastened (and defiant), Lindy went into the opposite direction to the kitchen. Rafe shook his head, sighing, and told Slade, "Those two act just like my oldest daughters, I swear. Ignore Lindy … she's been pestering Meg to start dating for the last five years. This is the first time she's gotten a reaction out of her." Slade was sure that there was something Rafe wasn't saying, but the man changed the subject, asking instead about what he learned about Grant's whereabouts. Slade shared what little he learned thus far. He had no idea what kind of information or guidance Rafe could offer, but he would gladly take what assistance he could get.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

"Dory … Rebecca's gone."

Of all the things Dory expected to hear when she returned from looking after Heather, that was quite possibly the very last. But Shado stood in the kitchen of her diner, arms folded across her chest as if she was trying to prevent herself from shivering. Considering she no longer had a corporeal form, that was impossible, but there you had it. Dory very carefully put down her purse, before facing the young woman. Sevi'anna was being all too quiet, so Dory asked carefully, "Shado? How you mean, Rebecca is gone?"

"She means just that. Mom's gone. She was trying to distract me … she made this odd noise, like she was choking, and then she vanished. Shado and I have been searching for her, and she's nowhere in this dimension," Tommy Merlyn answered, appearing alongside Shado. Dory wondered if either young person realized they were holding hands. She wouldn't bring that to their attention. They probably hadn't noticed, and Dory wasn't so cruel as to distract them from their obvious worry. Because what they were saying? That was impossible.

 _Nothing is impossible, Dorcas. Unlikely, yes. But not impossible_ , Sevi'anna said quietly, and the use of her real name warned Dory that whatever was happening, it was far more dangerous than a dead woman vanishing from the Other Side. And that? That was dangerous enough. Sevi'anna added, _Focus on reassuring the children. I can tell you that Rebecca's disappearance is not random. And it has_ _ **everything**_ _to do with her husband_. Dory knew that Malcolm Merlyn was still fighting for his life, so it wasn't he who was responsible for Rebecca vanishing. Still, the so-called Magician of Nanda Parbat had many enemies … and the ones who had the power to remove Rebecca from the Other Side were very few and far between.

She wondered briefly if she was making too many assumptions … but shook her head. No. No, she didn't think she was. And regardless of whether this person was ally or enemy to the Dark Archer, he or she was trouble for Dory and those she loved. Aloud, though, she told the two young people, "Right now, there's very little we can do. Don't argue with me, Tommy … you've only been there for a few short years. You just learned to manifest yourself. You'd be better served talking to your father." Tommy made to protest again, but Dory had the final word, reminding him, "You know that's what your mother would want."

The boy closed his mouth with a snap, his eyes still filled with mutiny. He stayed silent, however, and Dory turned her attention to Shado, continuing, "You know what you need to do. Anchor Tommy while he talks with his father. I'll look after Slade once I consult with Sevi'anna." Shado hesitated only a moment, before nodding firmly. Her grip on Tommy's hand tightening, the young woman vanished from sight, taking the only child of Malcolm and Rebecca Merlyn with her. Dory exhaled slowly, because this development was troublesome in the extreme. Rebecca was removed from the Other Side. That couldn't be good news.

 _No_ , Sevi'anna agreed, _not at all. I cannot feel her presence in any of the dimensions … which means that whoever took her is far more powerful than I, and can block her pr_ esence. That made a chill zip down Dory's spine, because someone powerful enough to do that? Sevi'anna sighed, _Indeed. You must be very careful, my dear. I have long said that your small town is a nexus, and the arrival of Slade Wilson tells me that something is coming. Something powerful and terrible. Perhaps even … cataclysmic._

Dory closed her eyes, leaning back against the cabinet. She murmured, "We're not even close to being ready. Even with Slade here …" Her voice trailed off, because there could be no getting ready for a threat of this magnitude. This wasn't a group of overexcited teenagers or even an organized gang. This was something powerful enough … on the level of a god … to remove a woman's spirit from the afterlife. Even Slade on the Mirakuru couldn't hope to beat this. Dory wasn't about to say they were doomed, but unless someone in town was hiding something even they didn't know about, the odds didn't look good for Destine.

 _This fight is not for your neighbors, Dorcas … at least, not in the way you're thinking. For now, I must leave you to seek out Rebecca's spirit. There is one blessing in all of this … since her spirit is hidden from me, I can tell you that it has not reanimated her body_ , Sevi'anna told her. Dory shuddered at that … first, at the idea of Rebecca awakening in the body that was buried more than twenty years earlier and clawing her way out of her grave, and then at the idea of that reanimated corpse in Star City. Nope, nope, and nope.

"Be safe, old friend," Dory murmured, still trying to get rid of that mental image. There was a flare of warmth and amusement, and then Sevi'anna's presence disappeared. For a single, wild moment, Dory thought about warning her niece, about begging her children and grandchildren to leave Destine, and not look back. But that was only how long it lasted … a moment. There was no such thing as safe, not any more. Indeed, Dory was beginning to realize that there never was. She thought for a moment about Heather, and her weary resignation over her father being jailed again (followed by a protective fury that he'd dared to raise his hand to her).

She thought about this town where she'd lived her entire life. She'd played and fought with her sister, gotten married, saw her treasured sister married, in this town. She and Ruby bore and raised their children in this town. Her sister bled her last in this town, and was buried here. Dory herself would die in this town, and based on what Sevi'anna was (and wasn't) saying, she would lose her life protecting this town. Well, then, so be it. Everyone had to die sometime, and while it wasn't something she was looking forward to (there was still so much to be done), she also wouldn't run from it. And of all these, this town … these people … well, they were worth it. Even her wastrel of a brother-in-law.

Her first order of business, then, was helping Slade Wilson to find his son. From there, they would work everything else out.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

Unknown Location

Same Time

She shivered alone in her cell, eyes trained on the door. It was so ironic … she'd gone through such lengths to protect her youngest child from following in the same path as his father and older brother, only for him to become even worse than the two combined. This variation, at least … did that mean that her baby boy was fated to become a monster? She shuddered. No. No, she didn't accept that. And for the first time, she had to wonder if it was in fact Slade who was responsible for what their children had become … but if she played a role in that as well.

The door swung open and her baby stumbled through. Adeline Kane Wilson surged to her feet, wrapping her arms protectively around him as his older self followed him through. He smirked at her, and for a moment, she didn't see Grant, but his father. But then, the moment was gone, because even when she was furious with him, Slade's eyes held warmth … warmth that this variation of her son didn't have.

She knew a little of his story. She knew that he was from a possible future, where he picked up the mantle of Deathstroke from Slade. She knew that he controlled that future's Star City for a time, going up against Oliver Queen and winning. And, she even knew that her attempt to protect her younger son from his father by having Joe tell Slade that he killed Grant prevented father and son from meeting. What she didn't know was how he escaped into the past. Nor did she know what he wanted … or where they were. She and Grant were in Corto Maltese, investigating rumors regarding the League of Assassins (she was investigating, Grant was exploring) when they were captured. She still wasn't sure how they were transported, since she was unconscious for most of it … and Grant, her Grant, wasn't inclined to tell her.

This new Deathstroke strolled around the room, smiling as Adeline pulled Grant against her chest. She didn't bother asking what he wanted. He never answered. Just smiled at her, all teeth and no warmth, and Adeline was ashamed to admit that it scared the hell out of her. He made to ruffle her Grant's hair, and her boy pulled away, staring at him with terror in his eyes. He turned and buried his face against Adeline's chest, as if to shut out this older version of himself. The Other Grant merely smirked again and sauntered out. When Adeline whispered, ' _he's gone_ ,' Grant pulled back, and Adeline was horrified to see tears in his eyes.

"He's going to use us, Mum … he's going to use us to get to Father," Grant whispered. Adeline would have closed her eyes, but she couldn't afford to do that right now. She had to be strong for her son. And then it occurred to her. He said that the future Grant meant to use them to get to Slade … but he could only do that if Slade knew about Grant. Adeline's breath caught in her throat. Slade knew about Grant. The last thing she asked of Joe was that he tell his father that Grant was dead. But Slade was a stubborn man, and if he knew Grant ever existed, he would try to find him … even if it was his grave.

What was once a worst case scenario had now become their best hope. Grant's next words set that truth into stone as he whispered, "He says that Father is different now, that he's not like Joe any more. He says he'll change that, that he'll bring the first Deathstroke back." Now Adeline did close her eyes as she pulled Grant against her chest again. Bring the first Deathstroke back. That meant that Slade was himself again … somehow, he regained his sanity and became the man she had loved once more. And if he found them … but her youngest child wasn't finished.

Grant added, "He told me where we are, Mum. We're in the States, near St. Louis. I always wanted to come to the States, Mum, but not like this!" Adeline would have laughed, but her mind was spinning. She'd last seen her eldest several years earlier, after Slade's final descent into madness. Joe was half-stunned and half-awed by what his father had done (slaughtered an entire station of ASIS personnel, dear God, those poor men). They'd argued, her and Joe, and in a rare moment of begging, Adeline pleaded with Joe that if he had to tell Slade about Grant, then tell him that he was dead, beyond Slade's reach.

Which brought another question to her mind. How did her son from the future know that Slade was himself again? Adeline shook her head, because there was far too much information that she didn't have, information that she needed if she wanted to get herself and her child out of this mess. And while she absolutely was curious about how Future Grant knew what he did about his father, it wasn't important for her current mission … which was to get her son safely out of this situation, and then make sure he didn't turn into that monster.

"What else did he tell you, sweet boy?" Adeline asked, kissing the top of her ten year old's head. There was no information that wasn't power, no matter how obscure it seemed, and Adeline was going to take any bit of information she could get. She couldn't rely on Slade to rescue them … not because she didn't think he could (when her ex was in his right mind, he was absolutely unmatched), but because she didn't know how long it would take him to realize that Grant was alive and needed him.

Once Grant was safe, and once she was sure that Slade was himself again (even if not quite the man she'd fallen in love with and married), then she would work out where they went from there. But for now, she had to gather intel and figure out a way to escape. If need be … Adeline swallowed hard as she held her little boy close, if need be, she would take out the Other Grant herself. Whatever it took to keep her baby boy safe.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: So, for now, it seems that the producers aren't including Rose Wilson, especially since Isabel Rochev took on the guise of Rose's alter ego. That doesn't mean she'll stay gone in this ... I'm still figuring that out.


	4. Chapter 4: Got Your Six

Author's Notes: I actually intended to have the bad guy (the one pulling the strings, who is responsible for Rebecca being yanked out of the afterlife) show up in this chapter. The characters had other ideas. Of course. They usually do. And how scary is it that Slade is the only character who is letting me take the lead, at least for now? So, in this chapter, Slade learns a little more about the town that's his temporary home and the people who make it up, while Meg has a minor freak-out (or maybe not so minor) and we meet more of Destine's denizens. Oh, and a few unexpected family members pop up as well. Once again, these gentlemen weren't supposed to show up in this story, but they had other ideas.

Chapter Four

Got Your Six

He was twelve years old when his father moved their family from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Destine, Missouri. He didn't remember much about the reason for the move, although he suspected it had something to do with the misguided idea that 'things are simpler in the country.' And if that was the case, they could have just as easily moved to the Gettysburg/Chambersburg area, since there was plenty of country around there, and they still would have been in the same state. Hell, they could have even moved no more than twenty miles away, to the Bethlehem/Easton area. But, no … they moved to the Midwest. Not that Rafe really wanted to live anywhere else: after a stint in the Marines, plus a nostalgic return to his childhood home, he realized that Destine was home now, and had been for quite some time.

Yes, Destine was his home now … but it wasn't always. And he remembered what it was like, moving into this small town as a little boy. True enough, while the young man across the table from him was no child (in fact, Rafe was willing to bet he didn't even regard himself as a young man), Rafe still recognized the slightly bemused expression of a person trying to understand his new environment. He'd seen it before, after all. So, he observed softly, "If there's something that's not adding up for you, son … ask. It's the only way you'll ever learn the answer." Something he tried to teach his girls … 'course, they were stubborn, just like him.

Slade Wilson's one eye slid toward Rafe, and for a moment, the fire chief wasn't sure if the boy was going to ask his question. There were quite a few questions in Rafe's mind about his companion, but he wouldn't ask them. Not yet. There needed to be trust before he did that, and Rafe's take on Slade Wilson was that this was a man a great deal like Rafe's grandfather: a man who found it hard to trust and once that trust was given, his loyalty was nigh unshakable. But if you betrayed that trust after it was given, God help you. Rafe had no intention of betraying anyone, but Slade Wilson had no way of knowing that.

The young man finally asked, "If Gordon Alexander's been a problem for such a long time, why is something just now being done about him?" Oh. That was a bit of a surprise, but at the same time, it wasn't. Wilson continued, "If he's been causing trouble … I saw Angel Carvalho duck under the table when he started up … if he's been that much of a threat, why didn't someone do something about him sooner? Why let him terrorize people all this time?" Rafe had the strangest feeling there was more to his question than that, but he didn't have enough facts at his disposal to call the newcomer on it.

Instead, he provided the simple truth, "Because Dory wouldn't let us." Wilson's eye opened and closed, and Rafe realized that was a blink. Since the younger man was willing to listen, Rafe went on, "Dory … I want you to swear not to tell Meg this, because it would only break her heart." Wilson considered that a moment, and then nodded. Satisfied, Rafe continued, "The same accident that killed Dory's younger sister Ruby also took the life of Meg's husband Stephen." Wilson's eye closed and he rested his forehead against his joined hands. Rafe went on, "Gordon was never the most friendly of men, never one to help out in a bad situation. He was ornery at the best of times. But Ruby smoothed his rougher edges. The rest of the town didn't understand how it worked, but she loved him and he adored her. And when she died, he completely spun out of control."

Wilson muttered under his breath, something that sounded like, ' _well, that sounds familiar_ ,' but he didn't interrupt Rafe otherwise. The fire chief went on, "I think Dory had this idea that she could save Gordon … if she couldn't save her sister, she could save Gordon. Trouble is, no one could have saved Ruby, and Gordon doesn't want to be saved. She had to come to terms with that. Sounds like she finally has. Trouble is, her niece Heather still thinks her father can be saved. And he can. But again …"

"He doesn't think he needs to be. I'm familiar with the type," Slade answered. Rafe was starting to get the sense that the newcomer was seeing parallels between himself and Gordon. Parallels there might be, but even Ruby had to guilt Gordon into helping others (something she rarely did, because his help was grudgingly given at the best of times. Besides, guilting someone wasn't Ruby's style). Based on what he saw for himself and heard from both Lindy and Meg, Slade hadn't volunteered … but there was absolutely nothing begrudging about his assistance.

However, all he said was, "I think we're all familiar with the type, son. What I'm getting at is, Dory finally realized that Gordon had to do this himself and she couldn't keep protecting him." Slade nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. Rafe patted his shoulder and murmured, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure none of the local teenagers are using my trucks for things they aren't designed for." A dark brow arched over the eyepatch, but Slade nodded. Rafe rose to his feet, intending to head for the bay. His oldest girl was Heather Alexander's best friend … he'd give Tori a call later, let her know that Heather could use her support right now.

Before he left, however, there was one last thing Slade had to say. He asked softly, "You say that it would break Meg's heart to know that Dory's sister died in the same accident that killed Meg's late husband. Did her husband cause the accident?" Rafe blinked at the young man, startled by the question, but he shook his head anyhow, and Slade added, "Then, why would it upset her? If her husband didn't cause the accident, why would it break Meg's heart?"

Rafe's mouth opened and closed. That … was a good question. At the time, with Meg grieving for her husband and struggling to be a good mother to Angel, it made sense. But … that was years ago, and while he had no doubt that she would always miss Stephen, Meg moved forward with her life. He looked at the young man once more, who offered him a small, one-shoulder shrug as he added, "She may be stronger than you realize." Of that, Rafe had no doubt whatsoever. Maybe the one they were protecting wasn't Meg at all. And that, in turn, begged another … if not Meg, then who were they protecting?

The question stayed with Rafe as he chased canoodling teenagers away from the trucks … there were plenty of places where they could neck, and those places were a lot more private. Just who were they protecting … and why? And why did he have a feeling that they were all being manipulated? He dismissed it, because if they were being manipulated, they would have no clue that it was happening. He certainly wouldn't be getting a bad feeling about it … would he?

DSDSDSDSDS

"I may have lost my mind."

"May have? I thought that happened a while ago. OW!"

"Sweetheart, if that was you being insane, I think we could all use a bit of insanity."

"Hush, all of you … I want to hear what she has to say. Now … Meg. What makes you think you've lost your mind, honey?"

As ever, the owner of this final voice made all others go quiet. That was good. Not so good? Three sets of eyes were now focused on her. Meg took a deep breath and answered, "Well, you have to admit, inviting a man I just met and know next to nothing about was hardly the smartest move I've ever made. All I know about him, I learned at the diner and on the ride over. I could easily be inviting an ax-murderer into my house."

She'd taken the pictures of her daughter, as Rafe advised she should do, and not a moment too soon. Angel was starting to fidget with her elf hat, which meant it was only a matter of time before she took it off. As ever, she sent the first set of pictures to Stephen's parents, who remained in Baltimore after their departure. They'd made one visit to Destine, and that was for Stephen's funeral. Curiously, they seemed to understand why she had to stay in the town where their son died, something few people from Meg's side of the family did. Once those pictures were sent, she returned to the kitchen, if only to see if there was something she could do. Of course, she should have realized that she would be ambushed with questions. Also of course, that was when she had her panic attack … what the hell was she thinking?

"You're right … you could be. No, hush … she deserves to have her fears taken seriously, because she's right. You're not a stupid woman, Meg," Lindy's mother Sissy observed. Lindy muttered under her breath, 'that's _debatable_ ,' then yelped when her mother swatted her without taking her gaze from Meg. Sissy, however, ignored her daughter and kept her focus on Meg as she went on, "You're not a stupid woman, nor are you impulsive. So. The question becomes, why did you invite a man you just met to your home, when all you know about him was one good deed? No one is made up of a single good action … or single bad action. Why did you do it, then? Why did you potentially put yourself and your fifteen year old daughter at risk?"

There were a thousand answers she could have given Sissy. She could have reminded the older woman that she was far from helpless. That was true. It was also irrelevant. Her instinct told her that Slade Wilson was probably the most dangerous person, man or woman, she'd ever met. She could have told Lindy that Slade was really trouble, he wouldn't have stepped in at the diner. Also true. Also irrelevant. She knew better than anyone else that evil often wore a friendly face. The simple truth, though … it boiled down to one thing. She said softly, "You know, he admitted to me that that just by meeting him, I was in danger. He accepted my offer, because this way, he could protect me, could protect us. But … I made the offer before he said any of that. Because he needed help. And he was so surprised at every turn when someone offered it to him, without strings attached. He needs help. He … he needs us."

Meg was a bit surprised when that last sentence came out of her mouth, but she realized upon reflection that it was true. Maybe not specifically the town of Destine, Missouri … but then again, maybe it was. She said again, "He needs us. Not to protect him … if what I saw in the diner is any indication, that man is likely a one-man army. But … everyone needs support. Everyone needs …" She struggled to find the words, before remembering a conversation with her Aunt Chloe, in those last days before her mother was drawn under the waves by her demons. She'd been no more than eight or nine, and she'd protested when Aunt Chloe made another visit to the house, fearing for the safety of her young niece. She was taking good care of both her and her mom. Aunt Chloe dropped to her knees in front of Meg, putting her hands on her shoulders, and whispered, ' _honey_ , _I_ _know_. _I_ _can_ _see_ _that_. _But_ _even_ _strong_ , _brave girls_ _like_ _you_ _need_ _help from_ _time_ _to_ _time_.' She hadn't said that it wasn't supposed to be Meg's job to take care of her mother, perhaps sensing that it was a role Meg clung to. Instead, she added, her hands leaving Meg's shoulders to cup her face, ' _everyone needs their hand held once in a while … needs the comfort of knowing they're not alone. And you aren't, sweet girl.'_

She wasn't alone. Not then, when she had the comfort of her aunt's arms and the knowledge that her uncle was only a phone call away. Her father was an ocean away, but once she knew about him, she knew that she only had to pick up the phone and he would be on the first flight to the US. And not now, when her mother was more or less sane, although still a bit distant at times. More than thirty years removed from that conversation, Meg looked into the patient brown eyes of Sissy McFarland and said softly, "Everyone needs the comfort of knowing they're not alone. And I think Slade Wilson has been alone for so long, he doesn't remember that he doesn't have to be." Sissy smiled then, and because Chloe Anderson raised her when her twin sister Clare couldn't, Meg added, "That doesn't mean I won't pick up a few things to protect myself and Angel." Sissy laughed then and drew Meg into her arms.

She'd never shared much about her early life with her Destine neighbors. Not because she was keeping anything secret, but because it was the past and she was struggling to put the pieces of her life back together after Stephen's death. Aunt Chloe was going through a divorce, Uncle Brady was struggling with her cousin's drug addiction, and Stephen's death had pushed her mother into another one of her episodes. She didn't talk about her early life because it wouldn't have helped, and she felt like she was drowning as it was. But Sissy always reminded her of Aunt Chloe … not physically, because they couldn't be more different. But to Meg, their spirits … their hearts … were very similar. She murmured into Sissy's hair now, "I need to call my aunt when I get home. You remind me a lot of her."

Sissy laughed lightly, asking, "Is she a short, stout Southern lady with a sassy mouth?" Meg shook with laughter at Sissy's description of herself, because it was all true, and it was one of many reasons why Meg loved her. It had never occurred to her to resent her mother while she was growing up or even as an adult. It was just the way her mother was. She couldn't help it. And she had Aunt Chloe whenever her mother's problems overwhelmed her. But Sissy … like Dory, Sissy took Meg under her wing almost as soon as she met her. If someone could have a surrogate mother after they were thirty years of age, then Sissy was Meg's.

"No … no, like my mother, she's a willowy blonde Canadian," Meg admitted and Sissy's arms tightened around her waist at the reference to Clare Anderson. Sissy and Clare met once. They hadn't liked each other, although Meg sensed that her mother was jealous of Sissy. Not because Meg loved Sissy, but because Sissy wasn't broken, as Clare was. Meg hadn't understood that. Nor did she understand why her mother resented her for not being broken. It was something neither Chloe, or Meg's father Bastiaan, could ever explain to her. Meg added, "It was Aunt Chloe who raised me when my mother … when she had her bad days."

Again, Sissy's arms tightened around her waist and she murmured, "Then I accept that compliment." Sissy released her and stepped back, asking, "Do you know what you need to do next?" Not really, and Sissy shook her head, eyes warm with affectionate exasperation, saying, "First, you need to send those pictures to your parents, including your aunt. Then, you need to collect your daughter and your boarder, and go home. You've done more than enough today, Margreet Theodora. Now it's time for you to take care of yourself and that man." Yes. And she would start with keeping her word. She had no idea where to start, but she promised to do what she could to help Slade find his son. Maybe between the two of them, they could figure it out.

But it was Lindy who said with a quiet solemnity that Meg sometimes forgot she was capable of, "And if you need us, if we're all wrong about him … then the entire town will make sure he lives to regret hurting you and Angel." That, of course, called for a group hug, even if none of the women gathered believed for a second that it would be necessary.

DSDSDSDDSDSDS

Vienna, Austria

Stephansplatz

One did many things for friends … legal things and illegal things. There were also things one did for friends that were best termed as operations of questionable legality, and this fell into this that category. But Gideon Wilson had always been there for him, regardless of the situation. If it didn't contradict the best interests of Australia and didn't hurt Gideon's family (and he'd never ask Gideon anything that would violate either tenet), Gideon was there for him. The least he could do was … this, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. And really, it wasn't the actions that made him uncomfortable, but who was on the receiving end of those actions. It was one thing to interrogate an enemy … it was quite different to interrogate someone whom you regarded as family. But that was the way of the world.

And he was no stranger to the ways of the world. That hadn't stopped him from trying to make things better. Thirteen years earlier, stunned by the death of his son-in-law while Bastiaan de Vries was helping to coordinate an op and heart-broken that he couldn't be there for his daughter as she grieved, the Dutch operative recruited a young Bratva captain as a counterbalance to the League of Assassins. Oh, he knew that his son-in-law's death was supposedly an accident, and he knew that there was nothing he could do for his daughter or granddaughter on the other side of the ocean … but there was much he could do to prevent other young women from enduring his child's grief.

Things hadn't gone as planned, but things rarely did. And now, in the basement of another friend's café, Bastiaan was holding his friend's grandson fast as his friend interrogated that not-so-young Bratva captain. And Gideon Wilson wasn't being exactly gentle about it … so far, their recalcitrant captain was sporting two black eyes and a blood-smeared face. It seemed he thought that since Gideon was over seventy, he wasn't dangerous. That was a rookie mistake. Bastiaan tightened his grip on Joseph Wilson, however, murmuring, "Be still, boy … Anatoli was given a mission. Not only did he not complete his mission, he completely subverted it and the Jackals." Joe stilled for a few minutes, but only long enough to catch his breath and start planning his next move. That was fine. Bastiaan would be ready for him. He and Gideon helped to train this boy, if only by helping to write the ASIS manuals.

Gideon was now purring as he held Anatoli Knyazev's jaw, "So. Allow me to recap. We can hardly hold your time being imprisoned on that God-forsaken island against you. But I can hold your much more recent actions against my son against you. Shh, shhh, shhh. I'm fully aware of what the Mirukuru did … how it affected him. I'm fully aware of what he became, and if Oliver Queen had failed in stopping Slade, we had a contingency plan in place. One that didn't involve turning Starling City into a wasteland. Amanda Waller was always a ruthless lass, but she lacked imagination and subtlety. I, however, don't. And you should be grateful that I didn't simply turn you over to Bastiaan. Now. You are going to tell me what we want to know."

"Grandfather … the future version of Grant was already here. We didn't bring him here! We … you do that one more time, and so help me …" Joe said, sounding more than a little desperate as Bastiaan shook him for interfering when he was told not to do so. Bastiaan merely shook him again. Now was _not_ his turn to talk. And evidently, he hadn't learned that excuses only annoyed his grandfather (and Bastiaan as well). Thus far, he'd made excuses for his own actions (seeing his father kill the spy when he was a kid. Not the greatest idea, Slade, but Bastiaan was sure it would take his friend's son the rest of his life to forgive himself for that particular action, if ever) … for Anatoli's actions (Slade Wilson's metamorphosis into Deathstroke) … and the Jackals' catastrophic failure as a antithesis of the League of Assassins. Oh, and of course, the mess involving his younger brother (Grant Wilson had already come from the future). Bastiaan had to admit, he might have a point there, but he had yet to hear Joseph take responsibility for anything.

"Do you have a hard time understanding the command to be silent, boy? Bastiaan and I formed the Jackals thirteen years ago, to protect others … to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Now, tell me, grandson … how is what you've been doing protecting the defenseless? Now you may speak, but only if you have an answer that isn't making excuses or whining?" Gideon inquired acerbically. Joe's mouth closed with a snap. Gideon returned his attention to Anatoli, saying, "Now. I believe my grandson when he says that the future version of his younger brother was already here in this time. What I want to know is if you did anything to help him kidnap his younger self and my former daughter-in-law?"

Anatoli shook his head, murmuring, "The Jackals may have failed in our charter, but I swear on the life of all I hold dear … we did not help him. Slade Wilson is frightening, but his ex-wife is far more so." Bastiaan bit back a laugh, because yes, that sounded about right. He had only to think of his former lover's twin sister. Now there was a frightening woman. Gideon studied first Anatoli's expression, before turning his attention to Joe, and then glanced at Bastiaan. He released Joe Wilson, grabbing the young man's wrist before he had the chance to strike him. Honestly, the boy never learned.

"I believe you," Gideon said steadily, "but now, my partner and I must trace Grant and Adeline's whereabouts. And the two of you will return to Kasnia with the rest of the Jackals, to await further instruction. No … there will be no argument, much less from you, Joseph. I clearly cannot trust either of you to keep your word. You will return to Kasnia, and if I find out that you've been in the United States, much less anywhere near Starling City or Star City, or whatever it's called, I will do far more than pull your charter. You are to go nowhere near that city, nowhere near Oliver Queen, and certainly nowhere near his son. Do I make myself clear?"

Bastiaan watched silently as grandfather and grandson held a staring contest. In the end, though, Joe looked away with a sullen expression, and Anatoli answered quietly, "Da. You do. And no harm will come to William Clayton at our hands. Nor to his father, or to Star City." Gideon looked from his grandson to the Bratva captain and back again, and evidently satisfied, nodded. He released Anatoli, and the two Jackals left the basement of the café, leaving the two old friends staring at each other. In spite of himself, Bastiaan felt the corners of his mouth quirking and Gideon rolled his eyes.

"Don't start … just don't. All right, our first step is to track Adeline once she was taken. And isn't it time you called your daughter? Now, now … I just had dealings with my family, it's time you spoke a member of yours," Gideon chastised. It was Bastiaan's turn to roll his eyes, but his friend was correct. It was another tenet of their partnership that they not lose touch with their families, the very reason they were doing this. Their families were both battered and broken. Bastiaan's relationship with Clare Anderson lasted just long enough to produce their daughter Margreet, and his marriage to a Greek pianist lasted just shy of five years. That was the life of an intelligence officer, regardless of the agency. His line of work, their line of work, was beyond difficult on marriages. For Gideon, it was keeping an eye on his youngest grandson Grant, since his relationship with Grant's father had been damaged so badly even before Slade crashed on that miserable island. Bastiaan, however, was still on speaking terms with his daughter, and Gideon insisted that he keep it that way.

"Once we get upstairs and on the street, I'll call her. I just need to make sure that she's awake. Ah, forgot the time difference, did you?" Bastiaan chided gently as the two men headed upstairs. They'd been working together for years. So, when Gideon moved a certain way, Bastiaan mirrored him … and within seconds, they had their would-be attacker on the ground. Bastiaan sighed, shaking his head as he once more grabbed the wrist of one Joseph WilliamWilson, muttering as he gave it a small twist, driving the boy to his knees, "They just never learn."

"No, they don't," his friend agreed, "very well, then. You have my recalcitrant grandson in hand, I see?" Bastiaan rolled his eyes at Gideon's attempt at humor, but nodded, and the Englishman went on, "What's the name of the ARGUS station chief here in Austria?" The inhaled breath from Joseph Wilson was the only indication that the young man realized just how much trouble they'd gotten themselves into with this little stunt. After the fact, as usual. They just never learned.

"Valentina Auer, I believe … and if memory serves, she's the one who recruited Amanda Waller," Bastiaan answered. Memory serves, his arse … he damn well knew that it was Valentina who recruited the Wall, because he trained Valentina and tried to talk her out of recruiting the young woman. However, he had the pleasure of seeing Joe Wilson go gray with horror when he realized just how badly he and Anatoli screwed up. Probably more Joe than Anatoli, but Anatoli didn't stop him … so he was just as culpable. Judging from the captain's face, he figured that part out for himself.

And Gideon's smile was best described as gleeful as he replied, "Oh, yes … the lovely Valentina. Did I ever tell you, Bastiaan, that my son saved her life when he was a rookie ASIS agent? I must have told you that story, for every time you told the story about your daughter saving that little girl in the crosswalk." Bastiaan glared at his friend, because really? He wanted to have this conversation right now? Well, far be it from him to deny Gideon the satisfaction. He smirked at his old friend.

"That was my younger sister, Gideon … not my daughter, as you well know. Margreet would be the absolute first person to tell you that she's quite boring, and she's quite happy with that. I am as well," Bastiaan retorted as he began pushing Joe toward the exit. Julius very carefully didn't look in their direction … he couldn't very well talk about things he hadn't seen, after all.

"Your younger sister, who is fifteen years younger than you and five years older than your daughter … you can see why I would get confused," Gideon fired back as he muscled Anatoli out onto the street. Bastiaan just rolled his eyes and followed behind with Joe. However, he nearly stopped dead when Gideon added almost innocently, "And you never know about Margreet. Your son told his son that he was a pilot. We weren't honest with our children about what we did for a living. Your Margreet might have hidden depths."

Bastiaan stared at his friend in horror. No. Just … no. His Margreet was like his sister Lisanne, quiet and reliable. She wasn't interested in excitement or in saving the world …

… Was she?

TBC


	5. Chapter 5: A Wolf or a Sheepdog?

Author's Notes: In which a favorite author (whom I follow on Twitter) unwittingly provides the beginning segment and overall theme of the chapter for me. For those unfamiliar with the analogy, Meg and Slade's conversation in this first section is based on the concept that there are basically three types of people in the world: the sheep (ordinary people who simply live their lives and want to be left the hell alone), the wolves (who prey upon the sheep), and the sheepdog (who protects the sheep, who in turn regard them with suspicion). Meg regards herself as a sheep … Slade believes she could be a sheepdog under the right circumstances. Slade, however, knows that he's either a sheepdog or a wolf (I don't think he's ever been a sheep), depending on the circumstance. And I think I finally figured out what's going on … not just in this story, but long-term, including how I'm going to bring Rose Wilson into this. That being said, there will likely be a few more chapters to this, and then I'll start on the next story, which will involve Slade finding Grant and Adeline … and his new support group learning about Deathstroke. Their response is not what he's expecting. So! In this chapter, Slade and his companions arrive at his temporary home; Shado is entertained in the afterlife by the events in Destine; and a conversation is had between Bastiaan de Vries and Joe Wilson. It goes about as well as you expect.

Review responses:

Anon: Thank you so much! It will continue to slowly build … think of this as a pilot episode, introducing not just new characters, but an entire arc. It'll build until that collision point is reached … and then the next arc will begin, involving the aftermath of that explosion (and no, I'm not being entirely metaphorical about that)

Chapter Five

A Wolf or a Sheepdog?

"So, this is our humble abode … I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch or in the basement until I get the spare bedroom cleared out. Didn't really think things through before I opened my mouth," Meg said ruefully as she led her temporary (?) houseguest into the kitchen. She cringed as she noticed everything she forgot to do that morning before leaving with Angel … the load of dirty dishes still in the sink, the tea kettle sitting on the counter where she left it the previous night. A quick glance over her shoulder at Slade, however, told her that he wasn't even paying attention to the general mess that surrounded him. He _was_ taking notice of the windows … the exits, she realized, he was checking out the various exits from the house and from the room. She'd seen Stephen do the exact same thing in their apartment in Baltimore when they first moved in. The memory didn't bring the usual stab of pain … more like a sting.

"Trust me, I've slept in far worse places," was the not entirely unexpected answer. Even so, Meg smiled uncertainly, because how exactly did she answer that? In the end, however, she said nothing, merely led Slade into the living room. The man behind her went on, "In fact, I don't need a mattress. If you have spare blankets and a pillow, I can make a bed on the floor." It was on the tip of Meg's tongue to say that of course he needed a bed, but she bit down hard on that impulse. She had only to think about the times when she couldn't sleep in a bed for whatever reason … when sleeping on the floor was the only way she could get any sleep at all. And then, something unexpected happened.

For years, she'd kept a picture of her husband on the piano where he used to play lullabies to Angel as Meg walked the floor with her. It was the first thing of Stephen's she could bring herself to touch after his death, and it was on that bench, her head resting on the closed lid, where she'd done most of her grieving. And it was to that picture that Slade walked now, a small smile curving his lips. He murmured, "So. Your husband was a sheepdog?" Meg nodded and Slade picked up the picture, studying it intently. She'd not wanted that engraved on Stephen's picture frame, not at first. The wound was still fresh, but he'd loved the analogy of sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs, and it seemed the best way to honor her husband, in addition to raising their daughter to be a good woman, to try to help people as much as possible.

"I don't remember which one of his brothers on the force mentioned the analogy to him, but he loved it. Stephen used to tell me that while sheepdogs can't turn into wolves, they can become … indistinguishable," Meg replied. Slade looked away briefly, and Meg remembered what he'd said about his fight with his brother and could have kicked herself. The awkward silence stretched on, with Slade looking away from Stephen's picture, until Meg's cell beeped at her with an incoming text message. _Saved by the bell_ , _metaphorically speaking_ , she thought and removed the cell from her purse. She groaned under her breath at the message. So much for 'saved by the bell,' metaphorically or literally speaking.

How had she forgotten? Dory even reminded her just before she left the diner this morning … tonight was the weekly neighborhood dinner. She began typing a response and Slade asked quietly, "Everything a'right?" She looked up with a small smile and nodded, mentallycomposing a text to say _'thanks, but I'll have to pass this time_.' However, she hadn't even keyed the first word when a second text came through, telling her, ' _bring Slade. We promise not to_ _scare him. Too badly, at least_.' Now Meg rolled her eyes, because she just _knew_ that if she didn't at least ask Slade, it would come back to bite her in the ass. And because she knew just how her neighbors could be, she realized she would have to provide incentive for him to consider it. Fortunately, he already gave that to her.

She told him, "Every Saturday night is neighborhood night at Dory's. She reminded me before we left the diner this morning. That was one of the organizers, Giselle … and she wanted me to bring you, with the promise that they won't scare you too badly." Slade actually smirked at that, and she warned, "Don't underestimate these ladies, Slade … they're scarier than Dory. Scarier even than Lindsey Walker. But … they might have information about your son. Either of them. At the very least, if they don't know anything, they can at least keep an eye out for them."

That was probably wasn't playing fair, and she could tell that Slade felt as she did … he wasn't especially enthused about having dinner with people he didn't know. But if there was a chance it could lead him to either of his sons, he wasn't about to pass that up. Meg felt much the same way if it was she who was looking for Angel. He inclined his head, and Meg keyed her response to Giselle, ' _all three_ _of us_ _will be there, usual time_.'

She put her cell phone back down and observed, "C'mon. Let's see what we can do about tracking down your younger son. His name is Grant, and he's about ten, give or take. I'm guessing you weren't home when he was born?" Slade again nodded and Meg led him to her desktop. She made a face and called, "Angel, can you bring in a kitchen chair for Slade?" There was a muted agreement from her daughter, and Meg wondered if she should apologize for the wreck that was her computer room. She was a mediocre housekeeper at the best of times, and she hadn't had the energy to even be mediocre since she lost her job.

Slade, though, only said, "My ex was pregnant when I left on my last mission. I didn't know." Right. And leave it at that, before she put her foot in her mouth any further than she already had. Angel carried one of the kitchen chairs into the computer room, before murmuring that she was working on her chemistry homework. Meg nodded and the girl disappeared back into the kitchen. That was a rule … Angel had to work on the homework for her most difficult subject first. Her daughter inherited her tendency toward procrastination, unfortunately, along with Meg's absolute hopelessness when it came to science. Quietly giving thanks that one of her in-laws on the force told her where to find this website, Meg began entering the information Slade provided so far … approximately when Grant was born, his ex-wife's full name, and the general area where they lived when he last saw his family.

As she typed, she explained, "When Angel turned thirteen, one of Stephen's brothers on the force told me about this website. The cool thing is, missing children from other countries are listed here … or, at least, the potential exists. The other thing is, we can add missing children ourselves. Do you have a picture of Grant?" Slade quietly handed her a picture of a young boy … one that was clearly printed from the internet, but it didn't matter. As she scanned the picture into the computer, she went on, "If anyone has seen Grant, there will be tips. Once we finish adding him, I'll start putting together a flyer that we can put up around town." She turned in her chair to face her unexpected guest and added, "We'll find him, Slade."

The man looked at her for several moments, before a small smile touched his lips and he murmured, "Stephen wasn't the only sheepdog in the family." Meg felt her face warm and she turned back around to face the computer, because Slade was wrong. She wasn't a sheepdog … she wasn't anything special. But if Angel was missing, she would hope someone would do this for her, for her daughter. She wasn't anything special at all.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

The woman had to be turning Slade's worldview upside down and sideways … and for her own part, Gulong Shado was loving every second of it from the Other Side. She learned very quickly that while it could be challenging, she could focus on Slade and keep Tommy tethered at the same time while he tried to reach his incredibly stubborn father (Thea was stubborn? She got it from both of her parents). And then there were times like now, when her father helped her, because Tommy reminded him so much of Oliver Queen when they first met him … a version of Oliver Queen who didn't have a Gulong Shado or a Slade Wilson or a Gulong Yao Fei.

That was actually what her father was doing right now, because when he watched over Slade, he became … agitated. He was worried for his young friend, not just because Slade was still putting the pieces of himself back from the Mirukuru, but because her father had seen what Slade's son Joe was really up to, Joe and Anatoli. The Jackals were supposed to be protectors, who could go where even ASIS or ARGUS couldn't. They were, to use Slade's analogy, meant to be sheepdogs. But they'd turned into wolves, instead.

They'd allowed their bitterness at being left behind to overwhelm all else … just as the Mirakuru overwhelmed everything that made Slade Wilson the man he was, leaving only Deathstroke. The difference, though, was that same Mirakuru. Shado supposed she could have blamed Slade for agreeing to the dose, or Oliver for using it on their badly-injured friend … but what else could any of them have done? Slade was dying and in terrible pain, Oliver and Shado were terrified for him. None of them were thinking clearly, none of them realized the consequences of what they were about to do … and even if they were, would any of them have made a different decision? Could she and Oliver let Slade go, even knowing what was to come?

No. Shado wouldn't change a thing, and she knew Oliver wouldn't either. She remembered what he said to Slade when the latter reminded him of Moira Queen's murder. And while he didn't put it in those terms, Shado knew that he'd never truly given up on Slade, never stopped hoping that he would get his big brother back. And he did. It was something for which Shado gave thanks daily, because as she realized when the brothers came face to face on Lian Yu, both fully sane … her boys never stopped loving each other. Maybe it would have been better if they had (no, she didn't believe that, not really) … but she did believe that Slade's remaining affection for Oliver and his hallucinations of her made things worse for his mental state.

How would Slade react to the people of Destine, once he realized that these people truly wanted to help him, that they would stand by him? Oh, Shado heard the conversation between the ladies of the town, when Meg was challenged about what she would do if someone forced her to make a choice between Slade and Angel (especially if Slade was her best hope to save her child). She also heard Meg's acknowledgment (fear) that she might not do the right thing.

But Shado sensed she would, because of that very fear. As her father told her more than once, she should never worry about the people who feared that they wouldn't do the right thing when the time came … she should worry about the people who were _sure_ they would do the right thing. Billy Wintergreen was sure, and he betrayed Slade when his partner needed him. (She tried not to think about Slade's betrayal of Oliver, and vice versa, because, again, there were extenuating circumstances and they worked things out once Slade was himself again … well, for them, because words never came easily for either of them, when it really mattered)

There were the other denizens of Destine, too. She had few concerns about Rafe Madison or his daughters. She was somewhat concerned about Heather Alexander, mainly because she still wasn't willing to admit that her father had to save himself. But that was for Dory to do, not Shado. There was also the mayor, who Slade hadn't yet met, but likely would tonight. She still hadn't made up her mind about him … although, to be honest, she hadn't made up her mind about anyone aside from Meg and Angel (and that was mainly because Dory knew them, and had faith in the mother and daughter).

Shade shook herself after a moment. Slade would be fine. She knew this. Unfortunately, she had no way of helping Adeline and Grant. She could watch over them, but the later version of Grant was dangerous, even to his mother and his younger self. They didn't need her, they needed Slade. And since she didn't have a direct connection to them, they wouldn't be able to see her. But … did they need to see her? She watched Adeline Kane Wilson carefully, watched the determination warring with the exhaustion and the fear, the tenderness in her expression as she watched her youngest son sleep. She heard her whisper, ' _don't_ _let_ _us down, Slade. We need you now, now more than ever.'_ No _._ No _,_ they didn't need to see her, because whether she realized it or not, Adeline did have faith that her ex would find them.

And he would. He may have forgotten it for a time, but Slade was a sheepdog. And Shado was absolutely positive that he always would be.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

Vienna, Austria

Versteck (ARGUS Vienna station)

It never failed to amaze Bastiaan de Vries, how a woman who could turn a former speakeasy into an ARGUS station could also recruit the likes of Amanda Waller. But that was Valentina Auer for you, a study in contradictions. In truth, it was one of the things he'd always liked about her, even if he thought her recruitment policies were dodgy (and really, he liked most of Valentina's recruits). But he would always regard her placing her ARGUS station in an abandoned speakeasy to be one of her crowning achievements.

The lady in question was currently talking with Gideon Wilson and Anatoli Knyazev in her office, whilst Bastiaan sat outside in the main area with Joe Wilson. Bastiaan, not for the first time, wished for different company. His daughter, his granddaughter … actually, at this point, he would have even taken Clarissa's company (and didn't that say so much about his current company, that he would want to spend time with Clarissa, to whom he hadn't spoken since their son-in-law's death?).

Well, he couldn't be with his daughter or granddaughter right now, but that didn't mean he had to focus on Joe Wilson. He pulled up Meg's Facebook page, smiling a little at the pictures she'd posted not just of Angel in her Santa Elf costume, but of the pancake breakfast his girls had helped with this morning. According to Meg's caption, they were still getting the final numbers, but the Breakfast with Santa had been a rousing success all around. He couldn't help but laugh at his daughter's final sentence, _'going to collapse for a while, then help a new friend. Apparently, the drama doesn't leave once your kids hit their twenties. Happy, happy, joy, joy. (eyeroll).'_ The youngest Wilson of his acquaintance asked snidely, "What's so funny, old man?"

Bastiaan slowly raised his eyes to meet Joe Wilson's, and the younger man swallowed ever so slightly. Bastiaan stared at him for a few minutes, before suddenly smiling brightly at the youngster (because he'd been told several times just how unnerving it could be when he did that) and replying, "I am looking at pictures that my daughter posted of the Breakfast with Santa she and my granddaughter helped with this morning. Yes, I have a daughter … no, she doesn't know what I do for a living … and yes, if you so much as breathe in her direction, much less threaten her, I will not only end you, but leave your skin hanging on my doorway as a warning to all who would harm her."

Wilson number three blanched at that, even as he sneered, "Oh, so you're a liar, too. Just like my father and my grandfather." Bastiaan glanced again at the picture of his granddaughter, laughing and blushing at the same time … very carefully laid his mobile down in the seat beside him … and then, moving far more quickly than a man approaching seventy should be able to do, zipped out of his chair and twisted Joe's arm behind his back with one hand and slammed his head into the table with the other. Too shocked at first to react, the boy began flailing within moments, but Bastiaan held firm.

"In the first place, you little flapdrol1, you're not exactly honest yourself. In the second place, your father made his share of mistakes, but he's a human being … imperfect and fallible, just like the rest of us. And in the third place, if you want to be angry with someone about your father's untruths regarding his profession, you can just direct some of that at your mother. They wanted you to have the life they didn't, a normal life. Your father, your grandfather and I … we've never told the truth about what we do, and that is one of our sacrifices. Knowing the truth, it would only burden those we love most, and put them into greater danger. Every day, I wish to God I was with my daughter and granddaughter, every day I wish I could have been there for her when she lost her husband. But I'm not, and I wasn't. When we enter this life, we do it understanding that sacrifices will need to be made, so our families can be safe and keep their hands clean. That's the price we pay for being sheepdogs, as your grandfather would say," Bastiaan growled as the boy continued to struggle. He tightened his grip on the younger agent.

"I killed for the first time when I was thirteen, because I saw my father do it!" Joe retorted. Yes, Bastiaan was well aware of that. That went back to his previous assertion that Slade had made mistakes. However. He wasn't the only one. And really, Bastiaan couldn't fault the younger agent for this particular mistake. As an agent, taking his son provided the perfect cover … and as a father, it gave him a chance to spend time with his child. In his heart of hearts, Bastiaan really couldn't say that he would have done any differently, if he'd been around while Meg was growing up. He wished that Slade found another way, that Joe hadn't seen him kill that agent.

But what was done was done, and Joe carried his own responsibility. Bastiaan believed that he may have been traumatized by what he saw on that fateful camping trip, so many years earlier. Or maybe, he was already broken, if he could so easily take the life of another when he was that young. Bastiaan didn't know. What he did know was that something had to be done about this boy before he ruined any more lives. Which was why Bastiaan hissed now, "You do realize there's no statute of limitations on murder, yes? And, you're no longer a minor. We need only to find out who you killed to have you put away."

"Oh, we've already learned that, Bastiaan. We learned about it, not long after Joe and Anatoli took over the Jackals. But, everyone deserves a second chance … sometimes even third chances. But not even I give fourth chances. Let him go, Bastiaan. It's time he answered for his own crimes. His father suffered enough for his mistakes on Lian Yu, between the Mirukuru and Billy Wintergreen's betrayal," Valentina Auer answered, emerging from her office with Gideon and a chastened Anatoli trailing behind her. Bastiaan did so, stepping to one side before Joe could take a swing at him … thus, he noticed the look the young agent sent toward his grandfather. He wasn't the only one. Valentina added coldly, "Oh, no, young man … your grandfather has left your fate entirely in my hands. Bastiaan, Gideon, you may go, and take Anatoli with you. Oh, and Bastiaan … you really do need to call your daughter." Gideon smirked at that, and Bastiaan rolled his eyes. Paardenlul.2

TBC

Additional author's notes: The website that Meg uses to help Slade find Grant is based off the real-life website for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. I struggled with how a civilian would have access to something like that, until a) I remembered that Stephen's brothers and sisters on the force would likely watch over his daughter as she grew up and b)I located the website itself. Also, the Dutch translations for Bastiaan's insults are below.

1 Flap Turd

2 Bastard


	6. Chapter 6: Saturday Night Supper Club

Author's Notes: So, this chapter is actually based on my community (although truthfully, that's been true all along. Actually, most of my stories involve my community in one form or another). There actually is a Friday Night Supper Club, and while we do eat out normally, we rarely go to the same place twice in a row (rarely … doesn't mean that it doesn't happen. We went to a local IHOP two weeks in a row recently). Yes, we do have a Nina, and a Giselle, as well as a Rusty and an Edward. No Jacob Butlers, though (re-considers). Or maybe we do. My community doesn't have a mayor, but we do have individuals who 'donated' aspects of their personalities to Jacob Butler. In any event, my uncle made the observation last night at dinner that our area has great places to eat, and several of them … his part of the state, not so much. Nina's idea about the potential job for Meg also came from last night's dinner. One of our neighbors has moved into a retirement home. His wife died two years ago, and honestly, there were too many memories in their home. Plus, it was too big for one person under the circumstances. After dinner, we got a tour of his new home, and that got me thinking. Always dangerous. (rueful grin) Next chapter will see the return of Adeline and the two Grants.

Chapter Six

Saturday Night Supper Club

Once she showed him how to use the website (specifically, the tips and tricks she'd learned, because of course Slade Wilson knew how to use a computer, she wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise), Meg left Slade to it and went to check on her daughter. Angel raised her head and offered a half smile, commenting, "Chemistry is done, working on history now." Meg smiled and kissed the top of her head. She was on the point of asking what they were studying when her cell began to vibrate against her hip. Hhmm. That was odd, it was still somewhat early … or not, it was almost eleven am. Meg pulled her cell out of her pocket and smiled when she saw the caller id. It was never too early or too late for this caller.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted and was rewarded not just with her father's laughter, but her daughter's sudden, bright smile. To say that her father doted on his only grandchild was something of an understatement. More than once, she heard him say that Angel was his second chance … he missed so much of Meg's early life, and while they were very different people (Angel was far more outgoing than Meg), he could sometimes see glimmers of his only child as a young girl. And Angel was equally enthralled with her Dutch grandfather. Meg knew that her mother wasn't at all happy that Angel had more to say to her grandfather than she did to her grandmother, but Clarissa never had much interest in her granddaughter. It was to be expected that Angel was more interested in the grandparent who had time for her, something both Meg and Aunt Chloe mentioned to Clarissa on more than one occasion.

"Hallo, liefje!" was her father's equally cheerful response. He'd begun teaching her Dutch not long after their first meeting, and while she would never be anything more than competent, she could at least understand her father's greetings and respond in kind. And then, there were days like today when he would decide that he didn't want her searching for words to respond, and continue on in English. He added, "I saw the pictures on Facebook. You're certainly going to get mileage out of those." Meg snorted and Angel rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, that's part of my job as her mother, or so I'm told. What's going on? It's …" Meg glanced at the clock, did the necessary mental calculations in her head, before adding, "Nearly six pm there. Isn't it getting close to dinner time? Oh, wait … are you even in Europe?" Her father told her that even when he met her mother, he was already doing a great deal of traveling for what would end up being his career. It was her father's job to travel around the world with museum exhibits to help the host museums. Meg was quite sure there was an actual job title, but she could never remember it.

"Almost six pm, and while it is close to dinner time, you forget that I'm currently divorced. And besides, may I not call my daughter on the weekend, when I've not spoken to her in several weeks? Especially after she's posted some rather comical pictures of my only grandchild?" her father asked in a mock-plaintive voice. Meg rolled her eyes and began pacing in the kitchen, as she always did when she was on a call and couldn't leave the room. Angel smirked at her, and Meg mouthed, ' _do your homework_.' Then it was Angel's turn to roll her eyes.

Aloud, she told her father, "Of course you can. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Well, and to make sure that if the demon bitch did try to come back, you'd send her packing." To say that she wasn't kindly disposed toward her father's second wife was something of an understatement. She'd gotten along well enough with her first step-mother, who'd done Meg the courtesy of not trying to mother her and simply accepting whatever her grown step-daughter was willing to offer. While she couldn't say that they were still friends, it was easier for her to be civil to Josian than it was to be civil to his most recent ex-wife Alaine (aka, she who shall not be named).

"Margreet," was her father's only (laughing) protest. However, Meg didn't apologize. She hadn't liked her father's second wife at all. She could have tolerated her if she was simply rude and condescending toward Meg herself, but she'd been nasty to Angel as well and committed the cardinal sin of cheating on Meg's father. During their last 'conversation' (really, confrontation was a better word for it), She Who Shall Not Be Named called Meg an 'intolerant bitch.' Meg laughed in her face and thanked her for the compliment. It'd been worth it, too, just to see her stunned expression.

"Put that in the 'sorry, not sorry' category, Dad," she answered almost gleefully, and was rewarded with her father's laughter once more. And once more, Angel rolled her eyes, but grinned as she ducked her head over her homework. For the next several moments, Meg continued her conversation with her father, until they reached the part that was most important to her … when he would be in the States next. Of course, with his job, he made plenty trips to the US, and whenever he was in the Midwest, Meg would meet him … whether it was St. Louis, Chicago, or Indianapolis.

So when her father told her, "It looks like I'll be in your part of the States in about six weeks, liefje," it was all Meg could to keep from squealing with joy. He continued thoughtfully, "I'm trying to convince a colleague to accompany me. He works in a different area, could use the break, especially given the trouble he's been having with his grandson recently. And yes, Margreet, when I say your part of the States, I mean St. Louis itself. Gideon and I, if I can convince him to come, will be scouting a few museums."

"That sounds fantastic, Dad. This makes me really, really happy," Meg told her father. The pair talked for a few minutes more, telling each other than they were loved, until Meg ended the call with a bright smile. While she loved her mother, and regarded her aunt Chloe as a maternal figure (when she was being honest with herself, Meg acknowledged that Chloe was always more of a mother to her), conversations with her father never failed to brighten her days. And knowing that her dad was coming to see her and Angel? Really, it was the first piece of genuine good news since she lost her job.

Of course, she hadn't any idea of the potential complications her father's visit would bring. And even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered. Her dad was coming to see her. That was all that mattered to her.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Over the next few hours, Slade meticulously ran down each lead he could find about Grant. There weren't many of those … while the website Meg pointed him toward was useful, it would be even more useful once he had a location for his ex-wife and his son. Once he uploaded the most recent picture he'd found of his son, taken not long before Adeline and Grant's disappearance, he turned his attention to trying to locate Adeline herself. He knew it wouldn't be easy, and as the hours passed with each potential clue leading to a dead end, he found himself immensely grateful that the Mirukuru was long gone from his system. He hated to think about what he would have done to Meg's computer room in a frustrated rage.

He still wasn't sure what to make of her rather unexpected offer … the one involving room and board, although he was a bit surprised when she brought a sandwich and a glass of sweet tea into the computer room around one pm. Surprised by the gesture and by how much time elapsed while he looked for his son. Truthfully, Slade wasn't used to kind gestures for no reason. People were out for themselves, and they always expected something in return.

Meg probably did as well … but it might be something simple. It probably was, and Slade would be willing to help her in any way he could. Regardless of what she asked of him (as long as it didn't hurt others, and Meg wasn't that sort), it wouldn't stop him from being grateful for what she (and her daughter) gave him. The same was true of Dory … then again, he suspected that what she wanted was for him to look after Meg and Angel.

Around four pm, Meg poked her head into the computer room, saying, "I'm going to get a shower. Angel is finishing up her homework, but if you need anything while I'm indisposed, she can get you whatever you need." It took Slade a moment to work out what she meant, and then he remembered that they were meeting people for dinner. He nodded and Meg offered him a gentle smile before disappearing once more. He stared at the computer screen in front of him, wondering if it was too late for him to beg off. After a moment, however, Slade shook his head. No. No, he told Meg that he would go, and he needed to switch gears. It was unlikely that anyone at dinner this evening had seen Grant or Adeline, but he had to try every avenue.

With that decided, he turned his attention next to what his next move should be. A shower wouldn't be a bad idea, but he would let Angel go first if she decided she would need one. A quick conversation with the teen informed him that yes, she did need one, but she would let him go first. Slade wasn't sure how much of a favor that was, since he wasn't that familiar with the habits of teenage girls, aside from second hand stories, but he accepted the offer in the spirit it was intended.

At last, after all three were showered and changed (and the mother and daughter were both satisfied that their hair was dry, because no one wanted to go out with wet hair in the middle of winter. It also made the sole male extremely grateful that he had short hair), the trio was off to the diner once more. Angel gleefully explained to Slade all about whom he would be meeting that night (drawing more than one amused eyeroll from her mother).

The first was Giselle, the Swiss-born wife of one of their neighbors (Rusty was the name of Giselle's husband, Meg supplied when Slade glanced at her). She was the self-styled Social Secretary, and the person who usually came up with the idea of where they would be going. Nine times out of ten, it ended up being Dory's, just because it was local and everyone liked the food. She knew them and they knew her, and it worked out all around. Slade would be the last one who would question what worked for a group of people.

Then there was Nina. Angel didn't mention what Giselle did for a living, but that was the second thing she mentioned about Nina (Meg would explain in an undertone while Angel hung up their coats that Giselle was retired). Nina was a nurse at a local retirement home (not nursing home, Angel stressed, retirement home. So noted). She was, however, getting ready to retire. Her husband, Edward, was already retired from first the US Marine Corps, and then from teaching. Not in high school or college, but he helped other service members make the transition back into civilian life. Just from that description, Slade was inclined to like the man. They were still debating about whether they would stay in Destine, or return to Edward's home state of Utah.

And finally, Angel told him as her mother pulled into the parking lot of Dory's, there was Jacob Butler, the mayor of Destine. As Slade would realize once he met the people in question, they were all what his mum would have termed 'characters.' Butler was … something else. As soon as the three walked in the door, a woman with a slight European accent cried out, "Well, there she is … I was starting to think you might not show!" She emerged from a group of people at the center of the room, a slim woman with white hair and an expression best described as mischievous. Meg moved forward, and the woman immediately enveloped both Meg and Angel in a hug. Slade would quickly come to realize that was a feature, not a bug, with this group.

Then she turned her attention to Slade, who found himself in the very strange position of gulping. It wasn't just that he was on the receiving end of a VERY appreciative once-over … it was the gleam in Giselle's eyes when she looked from him to Meg and back again. Meg sighed, "Giselle. Don't scare him, please … I just met him today, and already, half the town is matchmaking. And don't say that it's because he's the first man I've paid attention to … I've heard it a hundred times today."

"But sweetheart, you've heard it because it's true! Not that any of us object … a pretty young woman like you should be going out and having fun, especially when your new boarder is this gorgeous. Hi, darlin,' I'm Nina, that's my husband, Edward, and you would have to be Slade Wilson. Dory told us all about you … except she left out the part about how scrumptious you are. Bad, bad Dory!" another woman teased, emerging from the group to hug the mother and daughter. She was heavyset, and like Giselle, her eyes sparkled with mischief and kindness. But one thing Slade was quickly coming to understand … these women loved their town, loved their neighbors, and loved each other. And they would not tolerate a threat to anyone or anything they loved. That was more than okay with Slade.

"He's here to find his sons, Nina … not a wife," Meg answered as she returned Nina's hug, valiantly ignoring Nina's muttered, 'the two aren't mutually exclusive, you know.' If he hadn't been hyperaware of the attention from his curious new acquaintances, he would have face-palmed. As it was, he was immensely grateful that his Maori heritage prevented his blush from being as obvious as it would have been on Meg or Angel. And yes, he was blushing. Dammit. Meg went on, "You've met Nina and Giselle. There's a reason we sometimes call them 'Nina' and 'Pinta.' That's Nina's husband, Edward, and Giselle's equally long-suffering husband, Rusty." She smirked at the twin indignant cries of 'hey!' from Giselle and Nina, adding, "This is Jacob Butler, the illustrious mayor of Destine."

Meg hadn't used an adjective to introduce anyone else, which told Slade that there was tension between her and the mayor. She wasn't disrespecting the man, as the saying went, but he wasn't exactly at the top of her Christmas list. For his own part, the man in question glared at Meg. She returned the glare with equal heat, and Angel stage-whispered to Slade, "It was Jacob's decision that shut down the law office where Mom used to work. It wouldn't be so bad if he'd offered her a job like he did with Mom's co-workers." Wait, what? Angel added in a normal tone of voice, "Don't look at me like that, I hear more than people realize. And I didn't say anything that wasn't true, nor did I call you names. You hired almost all of Mom's working-age co-workers, except Mom and one other person. Everyone in town knows that."

"Angel," Meg said quietly and the girl fell silent, although she still glared at the mayor. Meg went on, "Things are a bit more complicated than that. And yes, I know I always say that, because it's almost always true. You talk sometimes about people thinking they know what goes on in our house, when they don't have a clue. The reverse is also true … we don't know about other people's situations. Not everyone has the support system that we do. And we're at dinner now, so this discussion will be tabled for later. And I don't care if he started it. Just because he starts something, doesn't mean that we have to participate or end it."

"Well said, and I'd much rather talk about Slade anyhow. And Nina, didn't you have a job you wanted to talk to Meg about?" Giselle asked, neatly deflecting any further issues, at least for the night. Nina brightened at that, and so did Meg. Angel still looked vaguely mutinous, while Jacob Butler … well, the last Slade saw before Giselle escorted the newcomers to the table was a 'what the hell just happened here' look. Slade sympathized … and before the end of his first month in Destine, Slade would have even more reason to sympathize (actually, before the end of his first night, that would happen).

DSDSDSDSDSDS

As it turned out, the job Nina wanted to talk to Meg about was a part-time job, combined with a volunteer opportunity. However, Dory could tell just from the younger woman's face that she was interested. According to Nina, the director of the home wanted a Volunteer Coordinator … someone who could drive the residents to local volunteer opportunities, or organize such opportunities within the home. She'd come to the conclusion that a lot of the residents were at their best when they felt needed. Dory couldn't argue with that.

The home never had a Volunteer Coordinator before, but from what Nina was saying, it sounded like Meg might be a good fit. If she was interested (which she definitely was), Nina would introduce her to the director. No, it wasn't full time, and no, there weren't any of the tangible benefits, but it could lead to something more stable … if not at the home itself, then with some of the home's partners. No business, of any kind, existed in a vacuum. That was one of the first things Dory learned when she opened her diner. And while the retirement home wasn't strictly a business, many of the same rules applied.

While Nina talked to Meg about the potential for a job and Edward asked Angel about school, Giselle grilled Slade about … everything. She wanted to know about his sons, about his ex-wife, about his past (fortunately, she didn't ask about his intentions toward Meg. That would have been a bit too blunt, even for her). Dory demurely ignored the sound of Shado laughing hysterically. The young woman was enjoying this far too much, she'd decided as she settled Meg's chicken sandwich in front of her. Shado didn't deny it, observing, 'It's been far too long since Slade was among ordinary people. This'll be good for him.'

Dory thought about what her alter's great-granddaughter was saying for a moment, before deciding that yes, Shado was quite correct. This dinner, being among these people, would be good for Slade. Not just to remind him how ordinary people tended to behave, but to remind him also what he was fighting for, who he was protecting. Although, judging from his expression, Slade was having a hard time imagining who or what Giselle needed protection from. When Slade's eyes took on a glazed-over look, Rusty intervened, saying, "Let the man eat his dinner, Gis … you can interrogate him another time."

Giselle stuck out her lower lip in a pout that would have looked less out of place on a teenager, but did as her husband suggested, turning her own attention to the pork chops that Dory just set in front of her. Dory glanced at Rusty, and as one, they rolled their eyes. Silence fell over the next few minutes as everyone dug in. Well, aside from Angel, who continued talking to Edward, despite the light nudges to her ankle Dory just knew her mother was giving her.

As the food was consumed, conversation slowly started back up again. Meg mentioned that her father was likely to be arriving in six weeks. Dory was looking forward to seeing Bastiaan de Vries again. She'd always liked him, even more than she liked Meg's aunt Chloe (or, as Shado called the blonde woman, Meg's real mum. Clarissa gave birth to her, but Chloe raised her). Besides, unlike his daughter, Dory knew what Bastiaan actually did and who his friend Gideon was. Shado was absolutely beside herself when she realized that not only would they see a reunion between Bastiaan and his only child, but there would also be another Wilson family reunion if Gideon decided to accept Bastiaan's invitation (hopefully, it would go better than the last one. Not that this took much).

When conversation turned next to Nina's upcoming retirement, Meg's expression grew thoughtful. She removed a pen from the back of her cell phone case (so that's what she did with the adhesive pocket Dory gave her) and began to write on a napkin. Dory circled the table, picking up dishes, and as she leaned over, she 'happened' to glance at the napkin, and smiled to herself. Meg was making notes about the volunteer coordinator position, and ideas she was already having. While Meg and Angel attended St. Joseph Catholic Church on the outskirts of Destine, they often assisted Sissy at the Lutheran Church downtown and whatever Meg didn't think of, Sissy would.

She continued around the table, picking up the puppy-licked-clean plate that was in front of Slade. She smiled at him, asking softly, "You all right, son?" He hesitated, and then nodded slowly, as if he wasn't sure which question was she asking. Was his dinner all right? Was he adjusting to his new life? Dory supposed she was asking all of those questions and none of them at the same time. She smiled at him again and ruffled his dark hair, drawing an exasperated look from the young man. He did not, however, protest and Dory continued with her work.

As she carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen, she was joined by Angel. The girl rolled up her sleeves, and told Dory, "They're talking about boring stuff now. I figured I could come in here and help." And her help was always welcome (even if Shado was hiding behind the curtain that separated the kitchen from the pantry, smirking … not that the foolish girl needed to hide). As Angel turned on the faucet and bent down to retrieve the soap, the girl continued, "And I don't get Mom with Mayor Butler."

"That, my dear, is complicated. Yes, I know you hate that word. The truth is, sweetheart, your mom knows that the mayor did the best he could in a really bad situation. There will be times, Angel, when there are no good answers, just bad and less bad. That was the case this time. Your mom knows this, but that doesn't lessen the hurt. And that's something the mayor realizes. He knows he made the least bad choice, and he knows that your mom has support that others don't, but his decisions still hurt her. And he resents that. That's why Giselle keeps inviting him to the dinners, because they'll have to get past it," Dory explained.

There was a snickered, 'well, obviously' from the general location of the pantry. Blasted girl. She gave the stink-eye to Shado, who stuck her tongue out at her in turn _and_ crossed her eyes. The girl had been spending entirely too much time with Tommy Merlyn. She thought about if they were on this side of the Curtain, and shuddered. Those two combined with Angel? God help them all!

For her own part, Angel was mulling over what Dory told her. She asked slowly, "So, it's not that the mayor is mad at Mom, but he's mad at himself?" That … pretty much summed it up. The girl went on thoughtfully, "That doesn't make any sense, though. Why is he being like that if he's mad at himself?" Dory smirked at the girl. Like Meg said. It was complicated. And the longer Meg went without a job, the more strained it would be between them. Angel groaned as she muttered, "Ugh. If that's what being an adult means, maybe I should stay a kid forever." Dory laughed and kissed the top of her head. The world didn't work that way, and wasn't meant to work that way, but maybe Angel would stop agitating to grow up so fast …

Yeah, no … the world didn't work that way, either. So long as there were adolescents in the world, those same adolescents would be impatient to grow up and become adults, thinking that they would be free. That was one thing that would never change. She turned her attention back to the dishes, waiting for the moment when the conversations in the seating area began falling away. Then, she would return with Angel and see if anyone was up for dessert. For now, she would enjoy her time with the girl who filled a hole in Dory's life, just as Dory filled a hole in Angel's. There was time to prepare for what was coming (it was coming and coming fast, and they weren't even close to being ready, but how could they prepare for something like this?) … this was a time to appreciate what they had to defend and protect, what they would protect and defend with their lives, and if necessary, with their very souls.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7: Kitchen Conversations

Author's Notes: Ugh. Writing this chapter has been like pulling teeth! And normally, being off work due to weather issues (coughFlorencecough) gives me additional time to work knotty issues out, but that wasn't the case this time. If anything, it was more stressful than usual. Maybe because this time, there was actual damage in my area from the flooding that resulted from the hurricane? There's a motel I passed every day going to and coming from work, was built around seventy years ago. It was a daily/weekly motel, the kind we often stayed in when I was a little girl and we were on our way to my dad's next posting (also the kind of motel where we lived while Dad was on a temporary tour of duty). Half of the motel is badly damaged … the other half no longer exists. It was a source of derision for some in town … for others, it was home when they lost theirs in Hurricane Matthew two years ago … while still others have lost their dream. And that's what breaks my heart. In addition, I found out last week that one of my favorite professors in college died at the very young age of fifty-six. I hadn't seen him in twenty-five years, hadn't talked to him in fifteen … but I actually felt a bit sick when I learned the news. Maybe some of my grief over his death crept into this chapter. Here we have Meg dealing with some very uncomfortable dreams; while Slade has issues with dreams of his own. I originally planned to have Shado making her opinion known, but I realized I liked where I ended it with Slade. Maybe next chapter. Shado is glowering at me, so I'm pretty sure it'll be the next chapter.

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Kitchen Conversations_

 _He lay before her, all golden skin and rippling muscles and completely at her mercy (not helpless, never helpless, not this man). But instead of frightening her, that knowledge made her dizzy with … knowledge? Power? No, not power, because she held no power. Even with his wrists bound, he was the one who held all the cards here. But he was only here because he wanted to be here, not because she forced him into anything. He was dangerous, but he chose to submit to her, knowledge that was as heady as any drug. She knelt on the bed beside him, his feet brushing her hip. She hesitantly cradled the inside of one ankle in her palm, her pulse quickening at his sharp intake of breath. Encouraged, she slid her hand up his leg, gliding along his calf, along his knee, before easing up the inside of his thigh._

 _She (somewhat) shyly peeked at him, though she could hear how he struggled to breathe normally, struggled not to moan at her touch as she worked her way up his body. Dear Lord, he truly was beautiful! Her hand glided over flesh and muscle and bone and sinew, over his marvelously formed body, until she reached his chest. Here, she stopped, her thumb stroking lightly over a nipple, a quick glance to his face to see how he was reacting. His brown eye had glazed over and his breathing hitched._

" _Time to make a decision," he breathed. Meg stared at him. Did she continue to skirt around this, or was she ready to make a commitment of some kind? Everything came down to choice, even something as simple as this. Did she continue to touch him, hoping that he continued to trust her, or did she move forward? Could she bring herself to trust him when she was most vulnerable? Trust had to run both ways, or things didn't work. Swallowing hard, Meg leaned forward to kiss him … just a light brush of her lips against his. And as ever, as had been the case from the first time they met, she wanted more. Shifting her weight so that she straddled him, Meg placed her hands on either side of his head before leaning in to kiss him. A proper kiss this time, and …_

She awoke with a gasp. Meg sat upright and blinked a few times until her surroundings were revealed as her bedroom. The same bedroom where she'd slept alone for the last thirteen years, aside from those times when her daughter had a nightmare and crawled into bed with her. Okay. Maybe her friends had a point about how long it was since she showed any interest in a man, but come on! Having a sexy dream about a man she'd only met earlier that morning (a glance at the clock told her that it was the previous morning now)? She'd never done that before!

Rubbing her hands over her face, Meg sank back against the pillows. It was two thirty in the morning. From past experience, she knew it would take her a few minutes to get back to sleep (at a minimum), so she focused on dinner the previous night. Probably not the smartest idea, since Nina and Giselle quickly joined the ranks of ' _let's_ _get_ _Meg_ _and_ _Slade_ _together_ ,' but it was something to focus on that wasn't the man himself. She'd been given the number of the home to arrange an interview. While of course it was open this morning, the woman she needed to talk to wouldn't be available until Monday morning, and that was when Meg would call. After dinner, Slade retrieved his motorcycle (a Harley Davidson 500, if she didn't miss her guess) and followed them back to the house after stopping at the gas station (which was an adventure in and of itself). Angel was still not happy from the encounter with the mayor and with the three young thug-wannabes who tried to jump Slade at the gas station (something she still didn't wanted to think about), but Meg didn't say anything. This was one of those things her girl would need to work through on her own. She was stubborn, just like both of her parents.

While Angel retreated to her room to change into pajamas, Meg and Slade arranged the living room together to give him a place to sleep. Meg would never ask him about it, but based on the way he arranged the furniture around his 'bed,' she suspected that he had some variation of PTSD. She thought about what he told them about the injury to his eye, about the haunted look in that single eye when he spoke about his younger brother, and quietly resolved to never ask about it. If he chose to tell her, that was one thing …

And she wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon. With a quiet grumble, Meg threw the covers back and tottered into the kitchen. She probably could have gone to the bathroom to get a glass of water, but Angel was a notoriously light sleeper when something upset her … and this way, she could check on Slade. He'd been clearly uncomfortable when Angel gave him a quick hug good-night (but that didn't prevent him from returning the hug one-armed), and while she finished cleaning up in the kitchen earlier, it seemed it was taking him a while to settle. Besides. Just because she offered to let him sleep in her house didn't mean she trusted him.

At the moment, there was utter silence from the living room (which, when she thought about it, was a bit concerning as well), but a quick glance into the darkened room told her that Slade was sound asleep. Hopefully, he would stay that way. She turned her attention to filling the tea kettle with water and sifted through her teas to see what she felt like tonight. This morning. Whatever. She shook her head and grabbed a mug. But just beyond that mug rested the keys to Slade's Harley. And again, in spite of herself, she found herself mentally replaying the confrontation at the gas station. Slade knew something was wrong. He _knew_ it. He was right.

After dinner, the three went to their respective vehicles … Angel sulking a bit when both her mother _and_ Slade told her that she couldn't accompany Slade on his motorcycle. Meg started the car, double-checking the back seat to see if Slade left anything there, when the man himself knocked on Angel's window. (Bonus points to her girl for not jumping a mile, like Meg did) He told them his gas tank was much lower than he remembered it being, and could they stop off at the nearest gas station. Of course they could, although Meg was uneasy about Slade's statement. On occasion, there were people who siphoned gas out of other people's cars, but it hadn't happened in a while, and it really didn't make sense to her, siphoning gas from a motorcycle. And until the three young men appeared out of the darkness at that very gas station, it still didn't make sense. Meg, who was sitting in the car while Angel ran to the ladies' room, quickly texted her daughter to look for potato chips and popcorn. Lame, but it was the only way she could think of to keep her daughter safe, as simply texting her to stay put would have pulled her outside faster than anything else. And even with that, Angel still saw the tail end of the fight.

Although, it wasn't really a fight. Not exactly. Meg was exasperated by the overuse of the term 'owned,' but that was the only way to describe what happened as the three thug-wannabes approached Slade. She rolled down the window, just in case she needed to yell for help … instead, as she reached inside for the glove box for the first aid kit, she heard Slade tell the boys that this was one fight they _really_ didn't want to pick. She also realized that Slade had a side motive for coming to the gas station: he was trying to protect her and Angel. The thug-wannabes planned to follow them home and jump them there, possibly targeting them again after Slade was gone.

Three opportunities he gave them to walk away … three times, they laughed off his warnings, jeering at the 'delusional old man,' because they were high on their own youth and alcohol and who knew what else. But it wasn't until one of the wannabes threatened Meg and Angel that Slade's patience ran out. She saw it in his stance … she was no expert in self-defense, but she could still see the way his body shifted. What followed … she wasn't sure if she could ever explain it to anyone. It was brutal and beautiful and terrifying, all at the same time. And the most amazing thing to Meg, as she watched Slade in all of his terrible lethal grace, was that he wasn't fighting as hard as he could. He was pulling his punches. It was only as her daughter stepped out of the gas station that it occurred to her that she should call the police … which she did.

Angel saw the end of the fight, saw the moment where it looked like the trio, rallying themselves for one last rush together, might get the better of Slade. It was, she realized later, a feint … he wanted them to think that they had a chance against him. But her heart was still in her throat as she hung up with her favorite brother at the department, after he promised to get units out to the gas station immediately.

Maybe she held her daughter a little too tightly, maybe she fussed over Slade a little too much. But she'd been afraid for him. Slade accepted her fussing with more bemusement than irritation- something that couldn't be said for Angel, who was furious with the three and with her mother. It was a long time since she tended to a man's hurts (fussing over Stephen after he came home with a slight limp, his soft laughter as he reassured her that he really was all right, but a kiss to the bruised knee wouldn't go amiss … followed by yet more laughter when she threw a wet washrag in his face), and while Slade easily won against the three thug-wannabes, who attacked as part of an initiation, they did land some hits. He … Meg jumped as the teakettle whistled, and immediately moved it to a cool burner. The teakettle whistle reminded her of the sound of Slade's breath hissing through his teeth as she tended to his injuries (or the sounds he made in her dream when she touched him). There was a ruckus from her living room, then Slade's sleep-roughened voice asking, "What happened?" She turned to face her unexpected houseguest … and quickly averted her eyes over his shoulder, to avoid the sight of his very bare and very muscular chest. Oh, damn … now she was **never** getting back to sleep!

"Nothing happ … oh. Oh, uhm, right. Dream woke me up, so I decided to make some tea to settle my nerves. Would you like some?" she offered once she was sure that her voice wouldn't squeak. Slade rubbed at his face, and for the first time, she realized that he'd taken off the eyepatch … which totally made sense (and how weird was she that she was more uncomfortable with his bare chest than with the sight of where his eye used to be?). Sleeping with that probably wasn't particularly comfortable. She added, hoping her voice remained steady, "If you do, you might want to think about putting on a shirt? I really don't think you want to run the risk of getting burned if you end up spilling it?"

Slade looked down at himself and nodded, wandering back into the living room. Meg closed her eyes and sagged against the counter, burying her face in her hands. She knew she'd said this already, but she was starting to understand why everyone was freaking out over her paying attention to Slade, if she was reacting like this. She was starting to freak herself out as well. And it wasn't as if she was actually attracted to him … was it? (She ignored the little voice inside her mind that laughed at her question)

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

So, his hostess was awakened by a dream as well. Slade really hoped that he hadn't wakened her, although he didn't think it was likely, since the kitchen light was on when he jolted awake. He hadn't been a stranger to nightmares for several years, even before the island. But his return to himself provided him with even more. He dreamed of the night when he murdered Moira Queen, of his confrontation with the kid and his little sister on the island after he was injected with the cure, of Shado's death. He was used to all of them. They still had him waking up in a cold sweat and trembling when they returned.

Despite his words to Oliver on the island, months earlier, Slade still hadn't fully forgiven himself for what he'd done as Deathstroke. It wasn't just what he'd done to the kid, to his family, to his city. It was what the hallucinations had done to Shado's memory … what he had done to her memory. Tonight's dream started out with the memory of sparring with Joe after he was rescued from the island, but then Joe became Thea Queen, and then Thea became Shado …

Who stared at him with those large brown eyes of hers, stared at him as if she was looking into his very soul, and breathed, ' _What_ _happened_ _to_ _you_ , _Slade? What did you become_?' That wasn't all that unusual. What was unusual was for her to shake her head, murmuring, ' _What_ _will_ _it_ _take_ _for_ _you_ _to_ _understand_ , _you_ _didn't_ _fail_ _me_. _If_ _anything_ , _I've_ _failed_ _you_.' That had him bolting upright, forcing him awake. Slade didn't know where his subconscious came up with that, but it needed to go away, immediately. What happened wasn't Shado's fault, none of it was her fault. And he found the idea that even a tiny part of him blamed her for what he became … even that remote possibility terrified him beyond all imagination.

Trying desperately to shake off the remnants of the … whatever that was, Slade rolled to his feet and ambled into the kitchen, where Meg stood near the counter, her back to him. She was muttering under her breath, and Slade pretended not to notice, asking instead, "What happened?" She turned to face him … only for her to immediately avert her eyes and look at a place somewhere over his shoulder.

That didn't stop her from replying, "Nothing happ … oh. Oh, uhm, right. Dream woke me up, so I decided to make some tea to settle my nerves. Would you like some?" She still wasn't looking at him, and Slade rubbed at his face, realizing that he'd forgotten to put his eyepatch on before he came in to investigate. But Meg wasn't finished … and it wasn't his eyepatch that was making her uncomfortable. She added, "If you do, you might want to think about putting on a shirt? I really don't think you want to run the risk of getting burned if you end up spilling it?"

Surprised, the former ASIS agent looked down at himself. Oh. All right. For the first time, Slade realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt … and that was why Meg was looking anywhere but at him. He nodded to her and retreated back into the living room to retrieve a shirt, feeling his face warm as he did. He wasn't embarrassed as much as … well, he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling at the moment. He slid his t-shirt over his head, snagging his eyepatch at the same time. By the time he re-entered the kitchen, Meg was pouring the tea. She looked up, and Slade didn't miss the look of relief on her face. Definitely the lack of a shirt, as he hadn't yet put his eyepatch back on. She gave what was left of that a quick glance … but her expression was more of someone trying not to be rude than someone who was truly uncomfortable.

She smiled at him a bit shyly, saying, "It's called caramel apple pie … I hope you like it. It's something new." She took a sip of her own, made a face, muttering, "Needs an ice cube." But before she walked to the fridge to get what she needed, she handed a steaming mug to Slade, who inhaled the fragrance before taking a sip. Meg continued, rambling more than a little, "It's a habit I got into while I would wait for Stephen to come home at night. It helped to settle my nerves, you know? And then, after he died …" Her voice trailed off, and Slade thought about what he heard at dinner … how Stephen Carvalho was on the Baltimore PD for years, and then died only months after arriving here in Destine.

"What was he like?" Slade asked quietly and Meg looked back at him as she dropped an ice cube into the tea. She smiled faintly and leaned against the wall. He would have told her that she didn't have to answer, but she seemed to be considering his question, how to best describe her late husband. It wasn't an easy thing, describing someone you loved who died … something that Slade knew well himself.

"Angel is a lot like him," she finally said, "she has a lot of his personality. And thank God, she looks more like him than she does like me. Lord, I don't even know how to describe him. He was funny and kind and beautiful and amazing and so incredibly brave. And for seven years, he was my world. He was persistent. God, he was so persistent! When we first started dating … actually, he had to ask me out about five times before I would believe he actually wanted to go out with me. He believed so much in protecting those he loved … but that wasn't just limited to Angel and me. No, that meant all of Baltimore and this entire town."

She took another sip of her tea and closed her eyes. Slade waited, unsure if she meant to continue, but after a moment, she went on, "For the first few months after he died, I was on auto-pilot. Then someone decided to pick a fight with me. Told me that Stephen died for nothing, since the people he was trying to protect died as well. To this day, I don't know if they were trying to shake me out of where I was, or they were just trying to be an asshole. Doesn't matter. They got more than they bargained for, either way." There was a tiny smile on her face at that, and Slade just couldn't pass up the opportunity to rib her.

"So … you could have taken those three idiots tonight?" he teased gently and Meg rolled her eyes at him. But, her face did grow solemn, and Slade had a bad feeling he knew what was about to come. However, she only took another sip of her tea, resting her back against the wall beside the refrigerator. A silence fell between the two adults, and Slade really wasn't sure if it was a companionable silence or an awkward one. The years under the influence of the Mirukuru, followed by the years in the ARGUS prison, completely destroyed any ability he might have had with small talk (not that he was ever good at that).

"Nah. I'm not good enough to take even one of them, much less all three. You … wow. You were damn impressive. It wasn't just your moves, was it? I mean, you had a particular strategy when you were fighting them, once you realized you couldn't talk them out of it?" Meg asked. Surprised, Slade inclined his head, and Meg went on, "I could tell. Was it because there were three of them, or …?" He wasn't entirely sure where she was going with this (to be honest, he had a feeling that she didn't know either), but he would answer her questions.

"That was part of it. Also, one of the first things I learned was that fighting smart was important. Learning the combinations, the moves, that was important, yeah … but knowing how to use them and when to use them? That can literally save your life," Slade answered. Meg nodded and her lips parted … but rather than words, a yawn escaped her. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, looking more than a little embarrassed. Remembering what brought her into the kitchen in the first place, he asked, "Think you'll be able to go back to sleep?"

"Actually … yeah. Yeah, I do. I just need to double-check the stove. Oh, Slade … Angel and I are going to Mass in the morning. Not saying you're not welcome … you are … but I had the feeling you probably wouldn't want to come. If you want to do more investigating while we're gone, just let me know and I'll get the computer set up for you before we leave," Meg said. Slade inclined his head … that would be greatly appreciated. He wasn't particularly comfortable with the idea of attending church services, and especially not with the way people reacted to him today. He had a few leads, but he'd need to be careful … following one particular lead would require a computer other than Meg's. He didn't want a trail leading back to her.

The lady in question was puttering around the kitchen, evidently making sure all was as it should be. Finally, she turned her attention back toward the stove. Evidently seeing or not seeing whatever she was looking for, Meg swung back to her bedroom. At the door, she stopped and turned to face him once more, adding in a soft voice, "G'night, Slade. Sleep well." With those words, Slade was left along in the kitchen. He realized only a second later that he was ready to go back to sleep as well. He turned out the kitchen light and headed back to the living room. There was still a lot to be done, and he needed a clear head. But as he settled in his nest, as Angel laughingly called it, it occurred to him that his conversation with Meg bordered on the surreal, albeit in a good way. That was a version of normal he hadn't known for quite some time, just standing barefoot in a kitchen with a woman late at night, sipping a cup of tea. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might come to like it, if given a chance.

And that was the operative phrase, wasn't it? _If_ he was given that chance.

TBC

Additional notes: Just in case you're wondering ... yeah, that was the real Shado, trying to get through to Slade in his dreams. That's why she's glowering at me. Next chapter, Shado. Next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8: Reflections & Decisions

Author's Notes: So, as a measure of just how weird my brain is, I was driving to work earlier in the week, and not really thinking of anything in particular (funny, how often I get my inspiration from those moments). I passed one of the campus police cars when I pulled into the college, and that got me to thinking about the police department in Destine. It also occurred to me that after the siege, a lot of people probably would have left Starling City (between the siege and the Undertaking). And we got hit with another hurricane/tropical storm, so I took advantage of being off from work. Thus, we have Officer Andrew Perkins making his debut. You may see him again in a later story … or, this may be his only appearance. In this chapter, Slade comes face to face with a casualty of his time under the Mirakuru whilst taking a break from his search for Grant; while Angel makes her thoughts known. And, a decision is reached. Hopefully, we'll see in the next chapter how Slade reacts to it, how Meg came to that particular decision (also, hopefully Shado will finally put her two cents in as well). Oh, and those three wannabes who attacked Slade? Not the last time you've seen of them (not surprising, considering a man old enough to be their father kicked their asses).

Review Responses:

Wade Wilson: Thank you, glad you're enjoying it … will continue forward, as the muse behaves. (rueful grin)

Chapter Eight

Reflections and Decisions

"Damn, son, you look like you've been rode hard and not put up at all!"

Andrew Perkins glowered at his partner of three years, retorting, "Macy was up all night with bad dreams … so yeah, I imagine I do!" The older man winced … the other officers tended to forget that Andrew was a single father, raising a traumatized eleven year old girl on his own. He rubbed at his forehead, already regretting his harsh words. Unfortunately, Macy wasn't the only one up with bad dreams the night before. Try as he might, he and Macy hadn't been able to escape the memories of the Starling City Siege, more than four years earlier. Maybe he should have gotten them both into therapy … how was it that his mother put it? Treating the cause, not the symptoms?

But at the time, he'd just wanted to stop hurting, wanted to see his little girl smile again, something she couldn't do in Starling City … something neither of them could do. The siege was just the final blow. The first, he realized now, was the diagnosis of cancer for his Juliet, and then the earthquake in the Glades, and then Juliet's death. He'd only just returned to active duty the previous week when his hometown was overrun by so-called super soldiers. His mother was recovering from a bout with the flu, and his dad was hovering over her, so his mother-in-law was staying with Macy instead while he was at work on that particular day and night … by the time he arrived home, nearly thirty-six hours later, Juliet's mother was dead from a heart attack, and seven-year-old Macy was curled in a ball, mere feet from her grandmother's cooling body.

Andrew stayed long enough to bury his mother-in-law beside his wife (her only child) and then he left that cursed city with his baby girl, over his mother's objections. Andrew and Macy needed therapy, she said, not to run away. Andrew ignored her, because he could not stay in his hometown any longer. He needed to get away, not just from the reminders of the Siege, but the reminders of Juliet as well. It was funny, because before the Siege, his mother was encouraging him to leave Starling City and make a fresh start elsewhere. For four years, they'd had peace. Macy was finally, _finally_ coming out of her shell again, finally showing signs of the mischievous little girl she'd been before the deaths of her mother and grandmother.

And then, last night, all of that progress was torpedoed when they saw a ghost from the past … Andrew had just gotten off duty, and picked up Macy. They stopped at the gas station, where they saw three young would-be gangbangers circling around a single man, who defeated them quite handily. But when he saw the face of the fourth man, Andrew's world lurched. It was Slade Wilson, the man who unleashed that unholy army against Andrew's home, who was indirectly responsible for the death of Macy's grandmother.

That man's face was plastered across the news in the days and weeks after the Siege, even as Andrew was packing up the house where he spent the last ten years of his life. He knew who Slade Wilson was, and why his hometown was attacked. Word in the department had it that Wilson also killed Moira Queen (not that Andrew really cared about that … he shared his wife and mother-in-law's disdain for the woman. Even so, she lived in Andrew's city, so that made her Andrew's responsibility). And while the man he saw fighting at the gas station the previous night wasn't the monster Andrew remembered from those days (from what his partner said, Wilson was protecting the widow of a fallen brother), those memories weren't going away.

From his partner, he learned that Wilson was passing through town, looking for his son. Yeah, okay, whatever. Maybe it was rude, but he really wasn't interested in anything that humanized that man. Andrew rubbed his eyes again, and his partner said softly, his tone much different now than it was a few minutes earlier, "Listen … go home. You're no good to us like this. 'Sides, you know how quiet Sundays usually are around here. And even if we do need you, you can at least get a few more hours of sleep if something goes ca-ca." Andrew nodded … yeah, yeah he did. With a nod to his partner, he pushed himself to his feet. If nothing else, he would get a few hours of sleep, check on Macy, and then head back to the station tonight to finish the paperwork he'd meant to work on today.

But as he turned toward home, his mind kept replaying scenes from the previous night … Wilson sitting on the hood of Meg Carvalho's car as she fussed over him. He didn't know her that well … her husband died long before Andrew and Macy arrived, and while she was friendly enough, she seemed kinda distant to him at times (on the other hand, she was always extremely kind to Macy). Still, she was part of this town, and she was family. In spite of his desire to get some sleep, Andrew steered his car toward her house. Not surprisingly, her car was gone … she usually went to the early Mass at St. Joe's. But there was a familiar motorcycle sitting just to the right of where Meg normally parked … a motorcycle he'd seen the previous night.

For a moment, he sat still in his car and wondered what he was doing. His partner was right … he was exhausted, and his daughter was waiting for him. Plus, Slade Wilson wasn't breaking any laws the previous night. If anything, he was protecting others. But Andrew owed it to Juliet's memory to confront the man whose actions led to her mother's death. He owed it to his little girl, for the nightmares she still suffered. He owed it … he owed it to himself. Andrew closed his eyes and bobbed his head a little, exhaling slowly.

What he hadn't realized immediately was that not only was Slade Wilson's motorcycle in the driveway, but so was Wilson himself. He sat cross-legged beside the bike, attired in a t-shirt and torn jeans. He looked up as Andrew approached, and immediately stood, his hand going to the tools in front of him, a wary expression settling over his features. He didn't speak first, leaving that for Andrew. And for his own part, the officer had no idea what to say. So, of course, the words that came out of his mouth were the absolute worst … and the most honest.

"I came here from Starling City four years ago," Andrew said. Oh, of course he knew that it was now called Star City, but it was Starling City when he was born, and it was Starling City when he left, it would always be Starling City in his heart. Wilson blanched, but his single eye remained focused solely on Andrew, who went on, "I know that you were behind the siege that killed my mother-in-law and traumatized my daughter. I also know that it was you I saw defending Meg Carvalho last night, as well as Dory yesterday morning. So I'll only say this once. I nearly lost my life, protecting my city from your goons … I'll kill you myself if I have to, to protect this town." He wasn't speaking as a police officer (though he knew that wouldn't mean anything to anyone if word got around the department about his confrontation with Wilson), but as Macy's father and as Juliet's husband.

"I'm sorry," Wilson answered quietly. Andrew wasn't entirely surprised. He was, however, surprised to hear Wilson's accent. He was also surprised that Wilson said nothing after that. But, after considering things, what else could the man say? What did he expect when he confronted the man? Wilson continued after a moment, "I regret a lot of things I did in that time period. Hurting people who never harmed me, or those I loved, is one of my greatest regrets."

Andrew wasn't sure why that surprised him. He knew that the man he was currently talking to wasn't the man who unleashed his rage on an unsuspecting city (the second time in two years, no less), but he was still surprised, and his surprise (as well as his surprise at being surprised) led him to blurt out, "Then why? Why did you do it, why did you attack a city, a people who hadn't done a damn thing to you? What could Oliver Queen have possibly done to you? Yeah, I know you wanted revenge on Queen, that family has a tendency to piss people off."

Wilson sighed, so quietly that it was more of an exhalation of breath than anything, but said, "What do you want me to tell you? That I wasn't myself, wasn't in my right mind? It would be true, but would it make a difference? Would it make it any less my responsibility? I told the kid once that remembering all that was like a bad dream, but it happened. It happened, and the kid's mother is dead, just as your mother-in-law is dead." Andrew was shocked into silence, until one phrase caught his attention. 'Wasn't in my right mind.'

He wasn't making excuses … the exact opposite. Andrew considered what he was told just now by this man, thought about the affection when Wilson spoke of Queen, thought of that horrific day and night four years earlier. Not in my right mind. He remembered whispers of a horrific drug that turned decent men into monsters, and an antidote for that drug. He also remembered seeing some of those men when they returned to their senses … their horror at what they'd done, at what they'd become. And the pieces fell into place. He breathed, "You … you were dosed with that experimental drug." Wilson looked away, which gave Andrew his answer.

The police officer wasn't sure what to make of it. And his daughter was waiting for him. He hadn't realized it, but one reason he came here was to get answers. He had those answers, and now he had to process what he was told. He said finally, "Just remember what I said. I don't care if it gets me kicked off the force, if you hurt this town, I'll come after you anyway I can." Although, looking at the other man, Andrew wasn't sure what he could do physically.

But Wilson only inclined his head, answering, "I wouldn't expect anything else." Andrew stared at the other man a moment longer, and then turned and walked back to his car. He really didn't know what to make of Slade Wilson. There was still so much he didn't know. But for now, he needed to go home to his daughter. Macy was his priority now, along with his town. Everything else could wait.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

He'd worked fairly steadily from the time Meg and Angel got up, but about an hour after they left for the morning service, Slade was ready to take a break. He would have worked on Meg's car, but that wasn't available, so he opted to give his cycle a tune-up. It gave his mind a rest from trying to work out how, exactly, Adeline and Grant disappeared … because too many things didn't make sense. The few witnesses described a young man who fit Joe's description loitering around their house … when Joe was on the other side of the world. It didn't add up. And things that didn't add up where his family was concerned made for a very itchy operative.

And an itchy operative made for quite a **lot** of destruction and mayhem. Which meant that he needed a distraction. Angel and Meg left earlier that morning, and Slade found out that the girl was not a morning person (by which, he meant that a sleepy Angel whined more about getting ready to go to Mass than Oliver had about learning from Slade in the beginning). When Slade softly asked the teen's mother why she didn't simply leave Angel home, she answered wryly, "Because then, she whines even more." So noted.

Meg herself was already dressed when she emerged from her room, shortly after six thirty that morning … showered and dressed in a plain white blouse and a ruffled black skirt. She offered him a rueful smile when she entered the kitchen, observing, "I tend to favor the classical look. Can I make you some coffee?" Slade wasn't about to turn that down, even though he half-expected her to ask what he was doing up so early on a Sunday morning. However, she neatly avoided that question, instead noting as she started the coffee machine and popped an English muffin into the toaster, "I hope you slept well. Angel fretted a bit when I went in to remind her about setting her clock that you wouldn't be comfortable in your nest."

Slade smiled in spite of himself at that comment ('nest,' indeed) … but told her that yes, he did sleep well. What went unspoken was that was after their conversation in the kitchen the previous night. Meg bobbed her head, and then explained between bites of her muffin what they would be doing today. As she briefed him the previous day, she and Angel would be going to early Mass, to be home around ten am or so. Angel would work on whatever homework she had remaining until lunch. While the teenager hadn't had much of an opportunity the previous day, she tended to use study hall to get work done. Meg herself would be doing laundry, so if Slade wanted to use all of that time to run down leads, he would have a largely quiet house to do it in.

While Meg and Slade were drinking their coffee, a decidedly rumpled Angel emerged from her room, barely even grunting a good-morning to the two adults. Meg smirked at Slade over her coffee cup, which she set to the side to gently steer her daughter toward the spare bathroom. Slade just shook his head and continue to sip at the coffee. He would need to call the kid later today, an idea that occurred to him the previous night, just before drifting off to sleep. While using another computer wouldn't lead directly back to Meg, she could still be implicated by virtue of her IP signal. That was where the kid would come in. But, he had to remember to allow for the time difference. That would be later in the day, maybe after lunch.

Twenty minutes later, a decidedly less rumpled Angel returned to the kitchen, glowering at her cackling mother all the while (Slade didn't ask, he was sure he didn't want to know). However, she helped herself to a fruit cup for breakfast, while Meg disappeared briefly back into her bedroom. Angel, it seemed, really was _not_ a morning person as she didn't speak to Slade until about ten minutes before they left. Slade just shook his head, watching Meg's car pull out of its parking space, before rinsing out his coffee mug and putting it in the sink. He had work to do.

And for an hour, he did just that. But that note about a young man matching Joe's description, loitering around Adeline and Grant's home … that made him extremely uncomfortable, especially since he knew Joe was on the other side of the world at the time. But he couldn't make headway on more information regarding that young man … so, it was time to switch gears. And that? That brought him face to face with the former Starling City police officer. It was only now, nearly twenty minutes after that confrontation, that Slade realized he never learned the man's name … he hadn't offered and Slade hadn't asked.

He was once more reminded (for the second time in two days) that he wasn't entirely honest when he implied to Oliver that he'd forgiven himself. He … came to terms with what he'd done, gotten to the point where he could function, where the guilt and the horror of what he'd become didn't cripple him.

But, he hadn't truly forgiven himself. Or maybe he thought he'd forgiven himself, because he hadn't yet come face to face with innocents whom he'd hurt, aside from Oliver's friends and family. Until this morning. Slade exhaled slowly, realizing that he wouldn't be able to work on his bike any more. A glance at his watch told him that Meg and Angel would probably be home in another fifteen minutes, so it would be a good idea to clean up the tools he'd borrowed (Meg was kind enough to loan her late husband's tools to him when he mentioned wanting to check over his bike sometime today), and then clean up himself.

As he settled the tools back in place, he wondered if it would be a good idea to leave once he had more information about Adeline and Grant. His presence was clearly painful for the officer, and there was a possibility that Meg and Angel would end up getting caught in the crossfire. But as he stepped into the shower and let the hot water beat down on his body, Slade realized that was the worst thing he could do. Even if he left, Meg and Angel would still be in danger, just by virtue of knowing him. No. No, he had to stay here … not just to look for Grant, but to protect the woman and teenager who sheltered him. And maybe, figure out a way to truly forgive himself for his actions when he took on the guise of Deathstroke. (And if maybe, in the back of his mind, was a kernel of a thought that Deathstroke was a weapon, and all weapons were two-sided … Slade wasn't entirely ready to acknowledge that).

DSDSDSDSDS

She was two years old when her father died, so to say that she didn't remember him was a bit obvious. She remembered … feelings. Impressions. Her grandmother (her mother's birth mother) used to scoff at her, telling her that she didn't remember anything, she was too young to remember anything … but Mom and Aunt Chloe contradicted her, pointing out things that Mom remembered from when she was slightly older. Her grandmother just scowled at that, and changed the subject. She didn't remember her father, or her mother's grief. But she remembered the sound of a piano playing and a body swaying to that music. But it was only impressions, and for the last thirteen years, it had just been her and her mother.

Angeline Carvalho bit her lip as she tried to focus on her Geometry homework, something she'd been trying to do for the last thirty minutes, ever since she and her mom got home from Mass. It wasn't easy … Geometry was a difficult subject for her even when she was focused, and this certainly didn't fit that category. This entire weekend was disruptive … good in some ways, bad in others. Yesterday, there was the mess at breakfast … followed by the Breakfast with Santa. That was disruptive normally, but this year was worse than usual. Usually, she didn't hear people whisper about her mother. Not that Angel blamed her mom … well, not much. But really, would it have hurt her to even look at a man after Angel's dad died? Admittedly, Slade Wilson was seriously hot, but still! Angel hated to hear the gossip and speculation about her mom, because it wasn't like that. And there were some questions at Mass today, and Father Rick wanted to make sure Mom was okay. (Okay, Angel had questioned in the car and Mom explained that Father Rick wanted to make sure no one was forcing her).

Angel could kinda see where their priest was coming from, since he hadn't met Slade. She could even see how people might think that there was something more than assistance being rendered. Could it be more? Angel made a face and made a renewed attempted at focusing on her studies. But her mind was still on the whispers from yesterday morning, something she wasn't ready to tell her mom about yet. Her mother would ask her questions she couldn't answer. From the computer room, she could hear the soft murmur of her mother and Slade Wilson's voices. Angel still hadn't figured out what to call him. Since he was an adult, she was supposed to call him 'Mr. Wilson,' but that felt wrong.

For the next two hours, she struggled through her homework, until the very last question was answered, and she could put her book away. A glance at the clock told her that it was a quarter of twelve, and it would be time for lunch. She called into the computer room, "Hey, Mom … should I get stuff out for lunch?" There was silence from the computer … not just a lack of a response, but absolute silence, not even the soft murmur of conversation. Frowning, Angel rose to her feet and walked into the computer room, only to find it empty. Her frown deepening, the teen next headed into the living room, where she found her mother quietly covering up a figure lying on the sofa. Oh. That explained a lot. Mom looked up and smiled, motioning Angel to follow her into the kitchen with a single digit pressed to her lips. The teen did so, rolling her eyes behind her mother's back. Yeah, she kinda figured to be quiet.

Inside the kitchen, Mom said softly, "Sorry I didn't answer you the first time. He'd just dropped off and I wanted to make sure he stayed asleep before I covered him up. If you'll get the plates, I'll start making lunch for all of us. We'll even eat in the living room. I have a feeling our guest will react badly if he wakes up in an unfamiliar place and doesn't see people he recognizes. Not sure if you noticed, but he seemed a bit on edge when we got home." That … made a weird amount of sense to her. And yeah, she had noticed that … she just wasn't sure if her mother had. Then again, this was the woman who seemed to have eyes in the back of her head when Angel was a kid, so maybe she shouldn't be so surprised. The teenager got out three plates, and while her mother was looking in the fridge, she also set out the bread.

However, she asked, "Mom? Do you think it was a problem for him this morning? Waking up in an unfamiliar place?" The living room seemed to be okay when she came back from getting her shower. Mom straightened up, her arms full of lunch meats, cheeses, and jellies. Since the dry goods cabinet was directly over her head, Angel reached up for the peanut butter, reaching automatically for the chunky (which was her favorite) … but after a slight hesitation, grabbed the creamy peanut butter for her mother.

"Well, if so, there was no sign of it this morning," Mom answered as she arranged everything in her arms. She eyed their spread with a critical eye, and then turned back to the refrigerator, saying over her shoulder, "And there were no crashes during the night. My guess is, he remembered going to sleep there last night, so he didn't freak out when he woke up this morning. Not sure that'll be the case this afternoon." She pulled out mustard and mayonnaise and butter, adding, "Besides, I kinda consider it a compliment that he trusts us enough to fall asleep while we're awake." Angel blinked at that, and turned to face her mother, who pointed out, "He's a trained fighter, hon. Not just that, but highly trained, and not in a self-defense way. Fighting is a way of life for him. That means he was in an occupation where trust wasn't given lightly."

"Or maybe he knows that he could take either of us with one hand tied behind his back and half-asleep," Angel pointed out, and her mother inclined her head. Angel tried not to think about what she saw the previous night, when she came out of the convenience store to see the fight between Slade and those three idiots. It was one thing to see a fight on tv, but to see someone she knew fighting three guys? And he didn't just fight them, he trounced them. Mom may have thought she was protecting Angel by finding a way to keep her in the store, but she still saw what was happening outside. She still saw Slade facing off with them, from the time they began circling him until she stepped outside. And she could still see it in her mind.

Angel shook herself and began assembling her sandwich. There were soft footsteps behind her, so she wasn't entirely surprised when her mother's arm went around her shoulders, and Mom whispered, "I know. It isn't like in the tv shows or movies. I was afraid, too. Not for myself, but for Slade." Angel was fifteen years old, and she would deny it with all the air in her lungs, but there were still times when she needed her mother's arms around her. This was one of them, and she leaned into her mother's embrace.

"It isn't just that, Mom," she whispered, "Seeing it was bad enough, but this is someone we know. Not all that well, but we know him, and hearing that one goon said that he would have come after us whether Slade was there or not … I don't get it. We didn't do anything to him, to them … Slade didn't do anything. Why?" She hated how young and frightened she sounded, but couldn't help it, couldn't help clinging to her mother. There was a soft sigh, and her mother's arms tightened around her.

"I wish I had answers for you, baby girl. All I can tell you is that there are bad people in the world. But there are good people as well. We don't have be a Superman or a Supergirl, to make a difference. Just doing what Slade did last night, by standing up to those three brats … or even yesterday morning, when Dory was attacked. He stood alone, but he didn't let that stop him," Mom answered. She turned Angel to face her, cupping her face in her hands as she added, "Now, what can we do? We stand beside him, on those occasions when we can help him. We stand behind him when we can't, so that we don't get in his way. Evil will sometimes win, baby doll. That's just the way the world works. But we can mitigate those wins, and we can support those who fight evil. It doesn't have to be an active sort of help."

There was something her mom was trying to say, was saying, that Angel wasn't getting. And then she really looked at her mother. There were very few times in her life when she'd seen that look on Mom's face. But she knew what it meant. She breathed, "You mean … you're going to help Slade. Not just to find his sons, but …" How, exactly, would that work? Mom nodded slowly, that fiercely determined expression settling on her features. Angel felt … well, they were barely managing it themselves. How did her mother mean to look after Slade as well?

"I'm not sure if he's thought about it yet, but as long as he's searching for his younger son, Slade needs a home base. More to the point, he needs us, needs this town. Not to point him in the right direction or anything like that. He needs a support system, needs to know that he's not truly alone, that there are people who have his back … that we won't turn our backs on him," Mom replied. Angel blinked a few times, because … where did her mother come up with that?

Mom's face lit up with a rueful smile as she explained, "Something one of our fellow parishioners said this morning. He was what could be called a juvenile delinquent when he was a young man. He also noted that once he turned his life around, he was harder on younger juvenile delinquents than others were. But he also said that he didn't do it alone … turn around his life. It made me think of Slade, and made me wonder … made me wonder if he's trying to atone for something. But whether he is or isn't … he still needs help. And I intend to provide that help, whether it's to watch his back while he sleeps or providing information that I hear from other people."

And then Angel heard what she was really saying. She breathed, "He's ours now? Destine's, I mean … Dory and Giselle always say that this town takes care of our own, and Slade's ours now." Mom nodded. Angel needed only a few minutes to think about that, then she told her mother, "Okay … but you have to tell him." Her mother laughed softly and hugged her tightly. Angel returned the embrace, with interest … but she meant what she was saying. Mom got to tell the scary bad-ass that he had been adopted by the town of Destine!

TBC


	9. Chapter 9:'All Men Need Company'

Author's Notes: As you can probably tell by my screen name/pseudonym, I grew up during the 1980's, and I still love many of the movies and tv shows that I grew up with, along with the music. Not all of it, mind you, but a lot of it (Duran Duran and Survivor come immediately to mind with regards to still loving. I cried when I learned of Jimi Jamison's death five years ago). I love _Dune_ and _Krull_ and _ET_ , and yes, _Star Wars_ , too. Although I always rolled my eyes at the 'rip-off' criticism leveled at _Krull_. It may have attempted to capitalize on the popularity of _Star_ _Wars_ , but the movie itself owes far more to Arthurian lore than it does to _Star_ _Wars_. The quotation competition described here is based on something that my group used to do … although it wasn't exactly a competition. In any event, in this chapter, Meg gets far more than she bargained for, while Slade has to make a decision … the first of many. I actually planned to have both Meg and Slade's points of view in this chapter, but Slade clammed up on me (rolls eyes).

Chapter Nine

'All Men Need Company'

There were times in her life when she had what would likely be called an 'epiphany.' Like lightning out of the blue, as the old Survivor song _The Search is Over_ put it. Her understanding of what role she needed to play in Slade Wilson's life wasn't like that. Rather, it was more like she'd been putting together a puzzle, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find the piece that was missing, until she turned it a certain way … and that missing piece slid into place. Or, to use a slightly different puzzle analogy, it was like having a particularly problematic clue, and not being able to figure it out until she'd gotten another clue and word added.

(And there was no way in HELL she was ever going to tell Slade about that)

Meg never made any apologies for being a child of the eighties … she made no apologies for quoting books, or music lyrics, or movies, or for loving those same musical groups or movies. Nor would she apologize for turning into a teenager (sort of) when it came to those parts of her life. One of her favorite movies as a teenage girl was the so-called Arthurian rip-off of _Star Wars_ , _Krull_. She loved it so much that when she and Stephen got married, she chose a wedding dress that looked a great deal like the gown Princess Lyssa wore for most of the movie. And, to this day, nearly thirty-five years later, she could hold her own in quotation competitions. (Bonus point if you could imitate the speaker's voice)

That was actually what she was doing before Mass, while Angel was holding court with the other teenagers of the parish. By now, word had gotten 'round about her connection to Slade and the young'uns wanted to hear all about 'her handsome boarder,' as their deacon teased her. Meg rolled her eyes and threw down the gauntlet, if only to distract him, 'cause yeah, that could get old. Deacon Andy was five or six years older than she, and his guilty pleasure was fantasy movies of the eighties. She won their quote competitions when it came to movies like _Krull_ , but she could never beat him when it came to movies like _Dune_. Besides, Deacon Andy tended to worry about her if she wasn't interested in playing their games (which always made his wife Leila roll her eyes in a combination of exasperation and amusement). And she couldn't make her deacon and her priest worry about her, could she? Of course not!

She'd just finished quoting Rell the Cyclops back at Deacon Andy, when she actually heard what she just said … what they both just said. ' _Yes_. _All_ _men_.' It was a response to Prince Colwyn's invitation to join the company, ' _all_ _men_ _need_ _company_.' And it was as if that missing puzzle piece shifted into place. Slade could take care of himself. From what she saw the previous night, there wasn't a man better able to take care of himself than Slade Wilson. But he was a human being. And as Colwyn said, ' _all_ _men_ _need_ _company_.' Even scary bad-asses like Slade. Maybe especially like them.

(Not that she would tell Slade about that, either. He would probably laugh himself sick.)

As she told Angel, Dory already claimed Slade for Destine. She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing that was so different. Maybe offering her home as sanctuary, a refuge? Something like that. But it wasn't until after Mass and she was driving home that Meg realized what she'd figured out, and her fingers tightened on the wheel. Angel hadn't noticed, too busy telling Meg all about what her friends were saying about everything that happened the previous day. In a way, Meg was grateful, because it gave her time to sort out what she was thinking.

And, once they got home, Slade was exhausted from … something. He mentioned working on his bike, but she never imagined checking over a motorcycle could be that exhausting. Then again, he was up early, as she was (Meg's cheeks pinked at the memory of Slade's bared torso), and she had no idea if he was able to get back to sleep. Regardless, she worked with him in the office for a while, until he admitted that he hit a block. She dragged him into the living room by his wrist and sat him down on the couch, informing him that he was to sit there and do nothing. Let his mind clear before trying to get back to work. She picked up a crossword puzzle, and pretended not to notice the way he was listing to the side. Ten minutes later, he was sound asleep, face first in the pillow. She waited another five minutes to ensure that he actually was asleep, before she began carefully arranging him on the sofa and covering him up.

She heard her daughter calling her, but didn't want to run the risk of awakening Slade. Turning him on his side was easy enough. Lifting his legs up onto her sofa was another story entirely (and holy Mary mother of God, those legs of his). Angel poked her head into the living room as Meg carefully covered Slade with the quilt that hung on the back of the couch. Once she was sure Slade was settled, Meg followed her daughter into the kitchen.

Meg never told her daughter, but she enjoyed spending time in the kitchen with her. It reminded her of her mother's good days when she was a child. Her mother … her biological mother, that is … enjoyed cooking, and on her good days, she would invite Meg to help her make things: whether it was pies or sandwiches for her uncle and his team, it didn't matter. Having her mom fully there and working alongside her … those were among the best days of her childhood. And they were all the sweeter, all the more magical, because those good days were so very rare.

Together, the mother and daughter carried the sandwiches into the living room. Before returning to the kitchen with Angel, Meg moved the coffee table away from the sofa … the last thing she wanted was Slade giving himself a concussion if he rolled off the sofa. Meg took up position in her recliner, while Angel parked her behind in the other, tucking her feet under her body before tucking into the … whatever kind of sandwich her devious little mind came up with. She inherited her taste buds from her father.

They talked very little … just watched over Slade and ate. After finishing her own monstrosity of a sandwich, Angel retreated to the kitchen and tucked Slade's lunch under one of the microwave plastic shields, before heading into her room to put away her schoolbooks and probably call her current best friend, Madison. The other girl had a serious crush on one of the boys in their chemistry class, and based on what their teacher told her right before Mass, there was an ugly confrontation between that boy and Madison on Friday after someone lied about Madison. Meg didn't know the boy in question, but she had too many memories of being that age and in Madison's position.

After finishing her own lunch, Meg returned her attention at first to her crossword puzzle … but within a matter of minutes, realized she was too unsettled to focus. She'd made the mistake of glancing over to check on Slade, only to realize he'd shifted position, and was showing a bit more skin than he had the previous night. She hastily looked away (mind on the paths of purity!), but her focus was shot to hell. Meg decided to shift gears and instead work on the latch hook project she'd started at the beginning of the month. She hadn't yet decided what she was doing with it … maybe give it to Deacon Andy's wife, since she had a thing for lighthouses. But it settled her mind when crossword puzzles couldn't, and for the next hour, she was absorbed in what she was doing.

The first signs of trouble came when she heard low sounds coming from the sofa. At first, she didn't think anything of it …until Slade began shifting. Frowning, Meg raised her head from her lighthouse in progress to check on her boarder (which, admittedly, wasn't the best way to refer to him, but at the present time, it was the most accurate). She hesitated to call the sounds coming from him 'whimpers,' but from anyone else, that was exactly what she would have called them. Those were worrisome enough, but then, he actually began talking. She didn't understand a word he was saying, but he was terribly agitated. And that was before he fell off the sofa.

Most people would have awakened at that point … but it seemed the impact with the floor drove Slade even deeper into his nightmare. When his head came up, his expression was somewhere between terrified and enraged. It was clear to Meg that he didn't recognize her, didn't even realize where he was. _She_ realized a moment later that any wrong move could put her into danger. But how did she reassure Slade, how did she bring him back to awareness?

For most of her life, as far back as she could remember, Meg sang to herself when she was nervous or frightened. (She had a warped memory of being four or five, hiding under the sink when her mother was having one of her bad days, and softly singing to herself. Was it a memory, or was it a dream? Even now, she couldn't be sure, and she hadn't the courage to ask Aunt Chloe). Most of the time, if people were around to hear it, she was teased about it. Some people cry when they get scared, some people run toward whatever's frightening them … Meg sang. She truly wasn't aware of what she was singing most of the time. That was true now.

And in this particular situation, that singing likely saved her life. Within just a few minutes, Slade's brown eye blinked, and then it cleared, and he rasped out, "Meg?" She stopped singing, because clearly, he remembered who she was. That was a good sign (she hoped). Slade looked around, more than a little confused. He did not, however, ask how he ended up on the floor. Which was a good thing, as she wasn't sure how she would explain that he fell off the couch. She suspected that it was something Slade didn't have a lot of experience with. Meg stared at him warily before carefully approaching him.

He watched her just as warily as she knelt in front of him. Meg studied him for several moments … the sweat-soaked black hair, the single eye that held so much pain and weariness … then asked, "Are you back with me?" Slowly, the dark head bobbed, Slade closing his eye. Whether due to continuing exhaustion or something else, she wasn't sure. Meg next asked, "Are you okay?" Which, admittedly, may have been a stupid question.

(Fine, it was an incredibly stupid question, but cut her some slack, she was fumbling in the dark, and she always fell back on the trite when she was at a loss.)

However, he breathed, "Yeah. I'm fine. I … I'm sorry." Meg very, very carefully prevented herself from speaking or arching a brow at him. She was fairly certain that he had a very different definition of 'fine' from her, but she didn't need to call him on it (she still remembered the rather spectacular argument she and Stephen had early in their marriage about his definition of 'fine,' before she realized a few important things. She also remembered their equally spectacular making-up session). Slade added after a moment, his eye growing even more haunted, "Bad dreams." Somehow, she didn't think that 'bad dreams' quite covered it, given his reaction before he was totally awake.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Meg asked. Slade hesitated, obviously reluctant, and looked down at the floor. Meg could appreciate that reluctance, but … she bit her lower lip thoughtfully, before saying softly, "You don't have to. I just … if I knew what the dreams were about, I might be able to figure out a way to wake you up in a manner that doesn't involve getting knocked across the room or worse. The only reason I didn't try to wake you this time is because I kinda froze up."

(Yes, she was _totally_ playing on his desire to protect her and her daughter. Of course, she would have had to come up with a plan b if he decided that he was best able to protect them by leaving. And yes, as a matter of fact, she _did_ play dirty when she thought it was necessary … and right now, she believed it was necessary.)

Slade's shoulders slumped, but there was a tiny smile on his face as he raised his head to look at her and replied, "I suppose I can't argue with that. I can't tell you everything … not yet. But I will tell you enough to hopefully understand." That was more than reasonable. When she nodded, Slade explained, "Several years ago, I was critically injured whilst trying to protect my younger brother. They didn't think I would survive. I didn't think I would survive … and to be honest, I was okay with that. My brother wasn't. Neither was our friend, my … my brother's girlfriend. They were made aware of an experimental drug that could save me, and they chose to use it. It healed me … but there were side effects. I went insane. Because of my actions, people were hurt … people died. Some because of the choices I made, some at my hand."

Meg thought about what he'd told them in the car the previous morning and breathed, "That was when you lost your eye. You told us … you told us that you'd been dosed with something that drove you insane. There … there was a fight with your younger brother, and if he hadn't done what he did, a lot more people would have been hurt." Slade looked surprised, but nodded. It seemed that he didn't expect her to remember. Something he would have to learn, especially if he truly did stay here. She remembered things, even things that others wished she would forget.

"You hear people say about they don't like who they become, where alcohol and drugs are concerned. They usually don't become true monsters. I did, though. The person I became when my brother and … and our friend dosed me with that … he was a monster. The kind of monster you use to frighten your children into behaving. The kind of monster who hurts those whom he loves most in the world … who threatens people who are no danger to him, or those under his protection," Slade answered hoarsely. Meg swallowed hard and tentatively put her hand over Slade's, hoping to comfort him. To her surprise, he didn't pull away.

"That isn't who you are now. Maybe that's something you know already, but I'll tell you anyhow. You are not a monster. You are not a demon, you are not an animal. You are a human being, and you … you deserve a chance to make things right. I don't know what you did, aside from something you find horrific. But you aren't beyond forgiveness, you aren't beyond redemption. And maybe … maybe this monster you became … maybe he can serve a purpose, as well. I mean, it's like those old comic books … someone started out a villain, but became a hero, 'cause the same skills that allow people to hurt others, can be used to protect."

And because her own scars still hadn't truly healed (despite having Aunt Chloe, Uncle Brady, and her dad), she added, "Some mental health issues begin at birth. Others, with a traumatic event … and still others are created by drug use or abuse. Some people hurt others, without understanding why … others do it, without realizing it or caring. You have realized it, and you've already started trying to make things right. That gives you a huge advantage. You only have to figure out a way to use it. And … and you're not alone, not if you don't want to be."

Slade looked at their hands … not joined, but connected. After a moment, his eyes still on their respective appendages, he asked, "What are you thinking?" What was she thinking? Obviously, she wasn't. That, however, didn't stop her brain from engaging (or her mouth, come to that). Taking a deep breath and an equally big chance, Meg curled her fingers around Slade's, which brought his gaze up to hers. Once Slade was looking directly at her, Meg opened her mouth and spoke from her heart.

"Human beings aren't just one thing … they're a mixture of good and bad, and neutral mixed in as well. I know you're here to find your son. But maybe while you're here, you can help people. You've already started that, in ways I don't think you've even realized. And while you're here, we can be your support system. Not just Angel and me, but the entire town. You don't have to do this alone, Slade, not if you don't want to. You are without the most capable … and scariest … man I've ever met. But you're still a man. And all men need company."

Slade looked once more at their hands, Meg's fingers curled around his. He said very softly, "I learned the hard way … the only person I could truly trust was myself. Before I met Oliver, the only person I trusted was my older son's godfather." He looked up at her again, added hoarsely, "That didn't end well. Then I met the kid … and despite the raging monster I turned into after I was injured, he never truly turned his back on me, just put me in a place where I couldn't hurt anyone. When his son was taken, he came to me for help. And when I needed help, he dropped everything. Even after everything I did to him … he still came to help me."

He released a breath, before continuing, "I don't know if I can trust you. I just met you yesterday. But you have no reason to trust me, either … and even if I'm not sure if I can trust you, I _can_ trust in your love for your daughter. You would die for her … you would kill for her. And … I've come to believe in balance. In my rage, I tried to destroy a city … maybe I can atone for that by protecting your town. I don't know if I can turn Deathstroke … the code name I was given … I don't know if I can make him a force for good. But one thing I forgot once sanity returned to me. Once a djinn is loosed from the bottle, it's damn near impossible to put back in." Deathstroke sounded even scarier to Meg, but she didn't tell him that.

In truth, she wasn't sure what to say. She was aware, of course, that there was so much he wasn't telling her. At the same time, he was right … he really had no idea if he could trust her. So, he was telling her what he could. She gripped his hand a little tighter and answered softly, "I'll do what I can to help. But Slade? I don't know how much stock you'll put into this, but I need to say it anyhow. If you hurt my town … I _will_ make you regret it." She had no idea whatsoever how she would do that, but the words needed to be said.

Much to her astonishment, Slade smiled at that … not just smiled, but out and out grinned (and oooh, someone should have warned her that his smile was so devastating!). He clasped her hand in turn, answering, "In truth, I wouldn't expect anything else. And, I put more stock in it than you think. After all … you know where I sleep." To her astonishment, Meg heard herself laughing, and Slade's smile broadened. He went on, his single eye twinkling with amusement, "Now. I believe I heard something about lunch before I drifted off … is that still available?" She bobbed her head, and he rose to his feet, taking her with him.

They had a lot of work to do … the more research they did about Slade's son Grant, the more questions arose. And she had no illusions: Slade had trust issues. Based on what she heard so far, he'd been given plenty of reasons not to trust people. Which meant that she had to earn his trust. That was fine. She didn't expect anything else. But every instinct she possessed, honed first as her mother's daughter, then as the wife of a cop … her instincts were screaming at her that she needed to do this. It might not end well for any of them, but she had to at least _try_.

TBC


	10. Epilogue: Toward the Future

Author's Notes: And now, we come to the end of _Deathstroke_ : _Crossroads_ , in which groundwork is laid for the next story in the series, _Deathstroke_ : _Path_ _to_ _Resurrection (_ which will be posted within the next hour _)_. I've been in Myrtle Beach with half of my family, and musing over the third story in the series (because if there's anyone who can find trouble in a resort town, it's Slade Wilson). I have a few ideas, but I'll have to come up with a villain for the piece. Maybe someone not as well-adjusted as Andrew Perkins, who lost someone in the Siege? Or someone else who wants revenge on Slade, because reasons? Or maybe someone who was put away by Meg's late husband and wants revenge because Stephen is now dead, and beyond his/her reach? Hmm, that idea has possibilities. In any event, like I said, the next story is called _Path_ _to_ _Resurrection_ and sees the resolution of Grant from the future. Among other things. In this chapter/epilogue, we see Shado's reaction to everything that has happened recently, the three wannabes from a few chapters ago get a 'job offer' (yeah, that bodes about as well as you think it does); while Slade reacts to his nightmare. I've thought a lot about nightmares during the last few weeks, and as is so often the case, received inspiration from an unexpected place. For those unfamiliar with 'outlaw country,' it's kinda hard to explain, so instead, I'll explain about the song Meg listens to in this chapter. I heard it during our ride from Myrtle Beach north this afternoon. ' _The_ _Highwayman'_ is not the poem by Alfred Noyes/song by Loreena McKennitt, but is instead about a soul reborn through four incarnations … first as a highwayman, then as a sailor, again as a construction worker who died during the building of the Hoover Dam, and then as a star ship captain. It's a haunting song, and for some reason, it reminded me of Slade.

Epilogue

Toward the Future

He'd had too many nightmares over the years to count. During the last decade, since Lian Yu, nightmares were usually about the kid getting hurt on his watch, about his own death and resurrection … about finding Shado dead and the kid in shock (and equally horrific nightmares about Shado weeping over Oliver's dead body). He was used to having nightmares. Falling out of bed (or off a sofa) was a new one on him. So was having a nightmare prompted by a song. Then again, ever since he arrived in Destine, he'd had all manner of new experiences. He was still figuring out whether that was a good thing or not.

He and Meg worked for some time in her computer room after they got home from church and while Angel was doing homework … Slade trying to find his son, while Meg tossed observations over her shoulder as she sifted through her books, trying to sort out which ones she wanted to keep and which ones would be donated to the local library. She admitted that a lot of the books in the shelves belonged to her late husband, and little by little, she'd reluctantly given those books away. Slade could relate. It was something of her husband remaining, in addition to their daughter … letting go wasn't easy.

He'd learned rather quickly that to Meg, music was life. She acknowledged that she had very eclectic tastes in music … from classical to soft rock to so-called New Age to what was called 'outlaw country.' He'd asked her to define that. And she made the attempt, but kept getting stymied. She finally told him that when a song came on that fit that description, she'd let him know. And she did. It was called 'The Highwayman,' and it sent chills up and down Slade's spine. Given his reaction, maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising when he had a nightmare about it later (drowning in concrete … what a horrifying way to die).

And then there was his awakening (trying to claw his way out of the concrete, daylight always just beyond his reach … just like his time in the Lian Yu bunker, just like his sanity while under the sway of the Mirakuru). He wasn't aware of much at first, just a soft voice singing from what seemed like such a long distance. Gradually, that voice became louder and Slade's senses returned to him. He found himself not just on the ground, but on his hands and knees, with Meg a few foot from him, looking wary. And of course, her first words were to make sure he was all right. He was … he would be. Just … as soon as he stopped thinking about drowning in concrete (drowning in hatred and rage and resentment and grief).

Except, rather than letting it go, she instead asked if he wanted to talk about it. His first impulse was to say, rather emphatically, 'hell, no.' But her next words stayed that impulse, as she gently pointed out that it would help her figure out how to wake him up the next time he had a nightmare … preferably in a way that didn't get her knocked clear across the room. He was well aware that she was manipulating him … that really, he should have left. But … he didn't want to leave. More to the point, he feared his departure would put her and Angel into even more danger. And so, he outlined what happened to him on Lian Yu, all those years ago. Not all of it … but enough for her to understand.

And once more, she surprised him … first by putting together the pieces of what he told her earlier about his final fight with Oliver on the Amazo, and then again when she reached out to comfort him. But she wasn't done surprising him. No, because Margreet Theodora Carvalho gently suggested to him that he could find a base of operations here in Destine … that all men needed company, that she didn't believe for a moment that he was a monster. And then, even more stunning, she believed that he could turn Deathstroke into a force for good.

Could he? It was Meg's considered opinion that he already started, just by what he'd done in her town so far. Slade could have told her that what he'd done the day before wasn't all that special: that because of his time under the Mirakuru, he had even less patience with the likes of Gordon Alexander and the three thugs from the previous night. He could have told her that, and every word would have been true. But it didn't matter, not to Meg. And, he knew she was right. Every time he tried to put Deathstroke in the past, where he belonged, that went horrifically awry. So … maybe Meg was right. Maybe he, as Deathstroke, could atone.

Slade wasn't entirely sure if he believed in redemption, but he did believe in balance. There was no way he'd be able to protect Starling City (or Star City, or whatever it was currently called). But he could protect Destine … as he told Meg, he'd tried to destroy one American city out of a desire for revenge, a desire to hurt as he was hurting. It was only right that he now try to protect a small American town, as penance.

Then came Meg's promise to make him pay if he ever tried to hurt her town. He wasn't amused by her promise (though she didn't word it that way) … but he did appreciate it, and he reminded her that of course he put stock in it. She knew where he slept after all. Meg actually laughed at that, and the two retreated to the kitchen to retrieve Slade's lunch. Nothing was resolved. But from here, Slade could see a way into a future that might contain his younger son. Meg had told him that he didn't have to do this alone, and while he couldn't say that he trusted her (yet), he did believe her when she said that.

It was a stepping stone … if nothing else, it was a stepping stone.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDSDS

 _YES! Yes, he figured it out!_

Tommy Merlyn indulged himself in an eyeroll as his compatriot danced around Dory's pantry. How exactly someone with no corporeal form could dance, Tommy wasn't entirely sure, but Shado was managing it. Then again, from what he could tell, she'd been a bad-ass in her previous life, so maybe it wasn't so surprising. Dory came into the pantry, a bit nonplussed by the sight of her sort-of great-granddaughter dancing. An eyebrow arched, and she asked, "Do I want to know what happened?"

Since Shado was still overjoyed (and still dancing. Did that mean she was Shado-dancing?), Tommy answered for her, _Slade figured_ _out that as part of his atonement, and to balance out the scales, he could protect Destine after trying_ _to_ _destroy_ _Starling_ _City_. Privately, he thought that there was nothing that balance that out. Then again, he'd died when his father decided to wipe out the Glades, so maybe his judgment was a wee bit skewed. Not that he'd let himself think about his father right now, because that was tied to his worry over his mother (that, and thinking about his father was a whole 'nother can of worms).

Dory closed her eyes and leaned against the door jam, murmuring, "Then we're moving forward. Good. I just got an earful from Father Rick in the grocery store. He's not happy at all about Slade's presence in town." Shado stopped dancing at that, expression growing thunderous, and Dory explained, "He's worried that with Slade being in town … well, he's afraid that Slade is a trouble magnet, and he doesn't want any of his parishioners getting caught in the crossfire." That … actually made sense.

 _Trouble will come to Destine,_ Shadopointedout _, whether Slade is here or not. Did he not listen when Meg told him that those three young fools last night would have targeted her and Angel if Slade hadn't been there? Whether he approves or not, there are bad people in the world. Not merely misguided, but bad._ Shadopaused _,_ beforeaddingabitreluctantly _, On the other hand, he isn't wrong to call Slade a trouble-magnet. Both of my boys are._

"Oh, he knows that … and he did listen. But his concern is that Slade will become known as Destine's primary protector, aside from the police, and some kid with something to prove might decide to challenge him, the way those kids did last night. There's another wrinkle … Father Rick knows who Slade is. He knows about Deathstroke and about the siege. And he's concerned that someone with a grudge against Slade, as a result of the siege or even people Slade stopped before his fall from grace, will try to take it out on the town," Dory answered grimly.

Oh. Hell. And the worst part of it was, Tommy could actually see the priest's point. Dory went on after a moment, "The good news is, he trusts Meg and has faith that she knows what she's doing. But Andrew Perkins will not be the last person who confronts Slade over the events in Starling City." Shado and Tommy exchanged a look, one that their … well, whatever she was … immediately noticed. He couldn't (wouldn't) call her their spiritual mother, because the only mother whom Tommy had was Rebecca Merlyn (wherever she might be). But she was a mentor? That sounded about right, and Dory asked, "What aren't you telling me?"

 _That's a rather long list,_ Shadoadmitted _, but the most important thing is that Meg knows. Not the whole story, not about the siege or about Lian Yu, but she knows about the past, and she's standing by Slade. More to the point, she's gotten him to thinking about using Deathstroke as a force for good. He isn't sure she's right, but he's thinking about it. Is that why you wanted him staying with her?_ Dory sighed and eased herbody onto one of thechairs in the kitchen _._

"No, I had purely mundane reasons for that. I wanted Slade with someone stable. He's had very little stability over the course of his life. Some of that, he's chosen, but not all of it. Meg is a fairly steady person. She's a bit idealistic, but not in the damaging way. She's interested in what she can do to help people, rather than in changing them. I knew she would accept Slade. The thing is, if you're a dishonest person and try to make her think that you're better than you are, it's not going to end well. Not that Slade would do that. He wears his flaws on his sleeve, the way others wear their hearts," Dory observed.

 _And hides his heart away,_ Tommycommented _._ Doryinclinedherhead _,_ andTommywenton _, She did tell him that she would make him regret it if he ever hurt her town. Honestly, that was my favorite part of the conversation. Not just her telling Slade that, but his reaction. He took her seriously. Then again, after Felicity Smoak's part in taking him down, I guess he knows better than to underestimate anyone._ Dorygrinnedatthat _,_ hereyestwinkling _._

However, it was Shado who answered _, That was an aberration. Slade knows better. That was the other problem with the Mirukuru. The strength, the healing, the enhanced mental acuity … all of that leads naturally to cockiness. Add to that the emotional instability that the Mirakuru brings, and that's a vulnerability most people would never consider, but a dangerous one nonetheless._ She fell silent for a moment _,_ and then added _, That's something I've often wondered about … the source of the Mirakuru. I know it's something that was developed by the scientists of the Imperial Japanese military during the Second World War to create an army of super soldiers, but where did the base element come from? That … was something Tommy hadn't really thought about. He'd been too horrified by_ what he'd seen in Ollie's memories, and Slade's. He'd wanted to hate Slade at first, after what he'd done to Ollie and Thea and to their city, but the more he saw, the harder it was to hate the man.

Dory was silent for a moment, before telling Shado, "Humanity has a bad habit of sticking our collective nose into things that aren't our concern. It wouldn't surprise me at all if those scientists tried to pull a Jurassic Park. They found something that should have stayed hidden, realized that they could make human beings 'better,' and were so busy thinking about what they could do, they didn't bother thinking about whether they should. Is it something I know? Not at all. But if there's one thing I've learned through all of my lives, it's that humans often can't leave well enough alone, and then everyone suffers for it."

And wasn't that a depressing thought? Then again, Tommy had only to look at his life and death to know she was right. Dory added with a small smile, "But humans can also learn from our mistakes. We don't always, but we have that capacity. I know Oliver believes he destroyed all of the Mirakuru, but in case he didn't … if Slade ever comes across another batch, he'll do what he needs to do. He's putting the past behind him, and looking to the future. As we all must." This was said with a glower at Tommy. He just rolled his eyes again, even though he knew she was right. Which meant that with his mother missing in action (so to speak), reaching his father just became Tommy's responsibility. He was never really able to do it in life … he wasn't sure if he could do it in death. But he owed it to his mom to try.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

"Heard you three got your arses handed to you by an old man. How embarrassing."

Braden growled under his breath, even before his companions stirred. Especially since it was true; and, it wasn't his idea. He'd wanted to just go after the mother and daughter, easy pickings. But they were given their orders … if they wanted to join the gang, they couldn't go after weak victims, only strong ones. Now, if they wanted to do weak victims after the strong, that was something else entirely.

Not that it mattered. As the stranger lounging on the other side of the bars pointed out, they'd gotten their asses kicked quite spectacularly. The stranger smirked at him, adding, "I suppose it's not really your fault. After all, you went after a famous retired assassin and mercenary. But, you made a few mistakes. The most obvious being, you should have realized that he'd notice he was lower on gas than he remembered. You made too many assumptions and that blew up in your face. You also chose the wrong secondary targets. The woman and her daughter are the widow and child of a dead police officer. If you'd succeeded in harming them, nothing would have saved you."

That … was something Braden hadn't known. The man (who wasn't American, but Braden wasn't sure what he was) went on, "My mum taught me that if I was going to do anything, don't do it halfway. It's one of the few good things she taught me. Doesn't make up for taking my dad away from me." The last was said under his breath, and Braden wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear … or respond. So, he took the safe path, and kept his mouth shut.

"So, what are you going to do for us?" Braden's cousin, Dillon, asked. Braden looked back toward his cousin, who was sitting up on the bench, eyeing the newcomer. Dillon pushed himself to his feet and ambled over to join Braden at the bars. His cousin may not have been the smartest person around, but there were times when Braden swore he had more common sense than the entire family put together. Dillon went on, "See, I don't think you're here just to say, ' _aw_ , _too_ _bad_.' You think you can do something for us … and that we can do something for you."

Much to Braden's surprise, the stranger actually smiled, saying, "Oh, you **are** smart, aren't you? You're right. You see, that man who wiped the floor with you? I need him kept out of my hair while I finish my business here. He'll try to stop me, and I can't have that. If he succeeds, then he unmakes me. So … I want you three to keep him busy, keep him distracted. If he gets too close, then you can take him down. Interested?" Honestly, no … much as Braden would have liked a second crack at that dude, he didn't really think it would go well for them a second time. Dillon told him while they were waiting to be processed that he thought their mark was holding back on them. Braden didn't want to believe his cousin, but bad things tended to happen if he didn't listen to Dillon.

A glance at his cousin told him that Dillon felt this was a Very Bad Idea. But before either could open their mouth, Braden's older brother Grady put his two cents in, sealing the fate of all three of them. He pushed himself to his feet, answering, "You're damn right we are." If they were alone, Braden was fairly sure Dillon would have facepalmed. His older brother never learned. And because they were family, Braden couldn't let him do this alone. He'd likely end up getting himself killed. Besides, his own father made him promise that he'd always look after Grady. His older brother continued, "You got a name, stranger?"

Beside Braden, Dillon rolled his eyes so hard, Braden was surprised they hadn't popped out of his head. Their new employer merely smiled and responded, "Of course I do. I've gone by many names. I've been called the Ravager. But I've always preferred my legacy name … Deathstroke. You, however, may call me 'Mr. Wilson.' And you gentlemen … you will be the beginning of my new army."

Fin (or the Beginning)


End file.
